The Taming of the Shrew
by ozykingofkings
Summary: Ig, a new student at Padua High falls in love with Nudge. However, Nudge can't date unless her sister Max does. There's just one problem: Max hates guys. What happens when Fang is paid to take out Max? Will Fang be able to tame the shrew?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey reader! This story is loosely based on 10 Things I Hate About You. I dont own anything but the story. Give credit where credit is due. Enjoy **

A wiry gentleman in his early 50's glanced up from his _Chicago Tribune _at the dirty blonde leaning on his doorframe with patience. He sighed expectantly as he folded his paper and carefully set it aside. Wanting to try the teenager's patience, he took his time as he removed his spectacles, straightened his tie ever so slowly, and folded his hands in front on his desk. At this the girl rolled her eyes and sat down opposite of the man before he even waved her in.

"So Dick, how's the tribune this morning? Did you manage to read that article on how the majority of taxpayer's money is being wasted _every year_ on overpaid school guidance counselors who are frequently found slacking on the job? It was very insightful."

Mr. Richard Galler faked a smile and mentally gave himself a pat on the back. Without his glasses, he couldn't see her hostile and frightening expression. As the teenager continued in rather nasty quips, he slickly turned his right ear away from her and turned his hearing aid off. Much better.

After amusing himself for some time, he lifted his hand to silence her. When the blurry pink fuzz he guessed were her lips stopped moving, he finally spoke.

"Maximum Ride. As much as I cherish these moments we share, should I really have to pencil you into my schedule everyday for fourth period?" He lifted his left hand to gently brush his peppered toupee and slowly lowered his hand towards the hearing aid on his left ear and its OFF button.

"That shouldn't be a problem. You have so much time any-"

Mr. Galler chuckled to himself. Silence seemed like music to him, especially when Max made her daily appearances in his office.

"My dear," he began, cutting her off, "I heard you were terrorizing Mr. Bartley's class again. Apparently you called him, as well as Friedrich Nietzsche, chauvinist pigs, am I correct?"

Richard Galler watched the pink fuzzy lips move vigorously without sound and sang the alphabet in his head, trying to match his thoughtful singing to the rhythm of Max's unheard, incessant rant. When he got tired of that, he lifted his hand again to silence her.

"How about I transfer you to Mr. Martin's "Feminist Prose of the Modern Age." The class is full of delinquents and potheads who have yet to notice the kind of class they are actually enrolled in. I'm sure your positive and enthusiastic opinions on the subject will contribute to a constructive learning environment for everyone." At this, despite his bad ears, Mr. Galler heard a shriek of delight come from the young lady before him.

As he watched her leave his office to meet the secretary for her new schedule, Mr. Galler felt accomplished. He then remembered his reason and desire in becoming a school guidance counselor over 25 years ago: he could change student's lives (hopefully for the better) without even trying. Chuckling again to himself, he quickly retrieved the newspaper beside him and spent the remainder of the morning searching for his spectacles.

* * *

Iggy laughed as Michael described the scene before them. Compared to the coffee-maniacs in the left corner of the cafeteria and the audio-visual geeks on the opposite end, Ig actually felt normal in his new school despite being _blind_; or well, kinda.

"Behind you is your basic group of beautiful people. Don't look, speak, or even breathe near them unless they let you." Michael warned in all seriousness.

"Right. No looking. I'll try and remember that." Iggy joked chuckling at Michael's slipup.

"Ig, you're half-blind. The whole guilt-trip won't work on me. I'm all knowing _and_ powerful" Michael answered arrogantly. Despite being assigned to show the new kid around Padua High, Michael was having a fun time with Iggy. He hardly even noticed the whole blind thing. Besides, Iggy still knew when Michael was flipping him off or stealing a couple cheese fries from his lunch tray.

"Stalker," Iggy taunted, catching Michael's hand before it reached his food again. "Then again, you can't help-" Just then, the sight of the most beautiful girl Ig had ever set eyes on crossed right in front of the table he sat at, cutting him off mid-sentence. Of course all he saw was a nice curvy mocha blob, but her voice was like music to his ears. "What group does she belong in?" Iggy breathed.

"The don't even think about it group," Michael said after watching Ig's little dumb and enamored little episode. "Her parents are missionaries and they're extremely conservative. That means no dating til she's about 40."

"Yeah, sure whatever," Iggy said, still staring after the girl's retreating figure, determined to find out everything about her. Michael rolled his eyes and attempted one last time to steal a measly little cheese fry before the bell rang.

* * *

Nudge placed three fruit cups, four empty hamburger patties, and a bag of carrots on her lunch tray, trying to avoid eye contact with the pizza and curly cheese fries that were practically screaming "Eat me!" As she was passing by the assortments of mystery lunchmeat, her friend Ashley joined her.

"Whoa, Nudge, going on some kind of diet? Maybe I should start one too," said Ashley suddenly glancing down nervously at her flat stomach.

Ashley was a model and made sure everyone knew that. She had bleached-blonde hair, sharp features and was completely fake-baked with a tan no one could possibly have naturally gotten in Chicago. Not only was she completely plastic on the surface, but as Nudge soon discovered, also in every deep and shallow crevice of her soul (No joke, she somehow paid to have plastic surgery on that too). Nevertheless, Ashley made a great conversationalist whether it was politics:

_"Obama is soooo awesome. He's like the hottest black President the U.S. of A has ever had."_

Fashion:

_"Nudge, I thought I told you to wear the red top. It'll make your boobs look even bigger!"_

Or even philosophical dealings:

_"See Nudge, there's a difference between like and love. Cause I like my Sketchers, but I __**love**__ my Prada backpack."_

Nevertheless, Ashley was a sweet girl and Nudge had to hand it to her, she did have a few bright moments.

"Did you hear about the hot new senior? " Ashley asked excitedly as they both approached the cash register in the lunch line. "His name is Iggy and apparently he's just as hot as Sam."

With the mention of Sam's name, Nudge's ears pricked up. Since her first day at Padua High as a freshman, Nudge was head-over-heels in love with him. He was the captain of the swim team, had wavy blonde hair, broad mouth-watering shoulders and dreamy green eyes. Take every woman's perception of an extremely hot man and mesh it into one superhuman being. This was that man.

"But I heard he's like blind or something. Anyways, I decided you can have him since I'm still recovering from my and Chad's awful breakup. My heart is in a very delicate and emotional state at the moment," Ashley said as her voice broke. Nudge swore she heard the lunch lady snort.

"Uh Ash, in case you forgot, my dad is like Hitler. He won't let me date unless Max dates but you know that'll _never_ happen. Any chance of me having at least some teenage normalcy in my life has just died because of this new rule." Nudge whined, too tired and disheartened to speak anymore. Ashley looked sympathetically at Nudge while she paid for her tray of food. A moment of silence passed between them.

"OMG, I know what to do!" Ashley squeaked suddenly, making the lunch lady jump. Nudge's sleek eyebrow rose in question. "Since you're not allowed to date until Max does, and well, no one in his or her right mind would _want_ to date your scary sister, we should find someone for her. Then when she's dating, you can go out with Sam or whoever. All we have to do is find someone up for something like… extreme dating! " At this, Nudge giggled at the thought and started heading towards her lunch table tray in hand with her ditzy friend.

"Ash, that has to be the smartest idea you've ever come up with!" Nudge exclaimed, excited for the plan. As the girls passed a table with two guys, Nudge couldn't help but feel that someone was staring at her. As she turned her head towards the table of two, her eyes met with pale gray ones. At this, she quickly turned her head forward and stared at the ground, unsure about the chills that were running up her back.

* * *

Iggy approached his last class of the day with excitement. Although he expected his Computer Science class to be full of socially inept computer geeks, he still had some small hope of seeing _her_ there. He knew it was dumb to even think it could be possible, after all, why would such an angel from heaven waste her time with computers?

Iggy entered the computer lab and chose a lab table at the way back. He mentally gave himself a pat on it back for not bumping into anything or anyone and carefully took out his textbook. Before long, floods of students entered the lab and filled every seat; every seat that is, except for the one next to him. Feeling self-conscious, Iggy lifted his right arm slowly and sniffed his underarm.

Iggy gave out a sigh of relief. It wasn't him, it was them. As the bell rang, he looked up to the front of the classroom (for appearances sake) only to see the mocha figure enter the classroom. His almost coughed his heart out when he saw her approach his table where the only remaining seat was.

Focusing all his efforts on not staring at her, Ig barely heard the teacher assign a project and instruct the class to discuss it with their lab partners (who were coincidently the people one sat next to). Burning with excitement, Iggy coolly turned towards his new lab partner and introduced himself to her.

Unbeknownst to Iggy, recognition flashed across Nudge's face. _So this was the hot new senior_. After formal introductions, random questions, and floods of laughter were shared, Nudge begrudgingly decided it was time to focus on their project.

"So what do you think of the project that Ms. Neal just assigned us? I mean, it's only the third week of school and your first day." Iggy decided he was officially in love with Nudge's singsong voice.

"Yeah, I know, it looks pretty difficult…so difficult that we might just have to work on it extra over the weekend. Like, maybe this Saturday after dinner and a movie…?" Iggy looked to the side and ruffled his hair, trying hard not to smack himself. Did he really just say that?

Nudge broke out into a huge smile. "Are you asking me out? Ohmygod, that's so cute." Nudge felt ecstatic. Not only was Sam starting to notice her, but also Iggy had just asked her out. Despite being popular, Nudge couldn't help but feel flattered every time a guy came on to her. She just loved the attention. Now if only Max was more like her. More open. Things would be so much easier.

"Yeah, and I know you're not allowed to date, but I'm sure if you told your parents it was for a project or-"

"Actually," Nudge said, cutting Iggy off, "My dad made a new rule. I can date when my sister Max dates. But my sister is like a mutant. She completely hates guys." Nudge said despairingly, looking at him through her eyelashes.

"Well, that's perfect. I can find someone for Max so you can date!" Iggy proclaimed a bit too enthusiastically. "I mean if you want me too, I guess I could find time or something." He added without energy. He looked down. He was behaving way too desperate. He had to stay cool. Girls loved that.

"You'd do that for me?" Nudge said, clasping Iggy's hand. Iggy looked from their hands to her face and back again, very surprised.

"Hell yes!"

* * *

Iggy's high spirits were failing. The next day, after letting Michael in on his encounter with Nudge, they both set out to find a guy willing to date _the_ Maximum Ride. Iggy started to wonder just how awful this girl was after all the guys he asked to date her either ran away, screamed, or just laughed in his face.

"Now, my friend, don't give up hope just yet," Michael said, placing his hand on Iggy's shoulder. "There's always bigger and better fish in the sea…or is it ocean? Except when it comes to Nudge Ride, there is no better fish. Yup, brother, you're screwed."

Iggy let his head fall into his hands. "I burn, I pine, I perish!" He stared down onto the lab table at the preserved dismembered frog they were supposed to dissect. His heart felt like it was on the same boat.

"Hey man, come on. You've got to stay strong. You can make it through this. Just take a few deep breaths and think happy thoughts." Michael wanted to burst out in laughter at the whole situation, but decided his friend was in dire need of medical attention. He looked up from his crumpled friend to call out to Mr. Carps, but instead saw the perfect candidate for the GMTDSICGTLOHL plan aka Get Max To Date So Iggy Can Get The Love Of His Life plan.

"Hey Romeo, how about this guy?" Michael said, elbowing Iggy while staring at the dark-haired guy two tables down.

"What's he like?" Iggy questioned, not even bothering to look up in his state of distress.

"Uh, dark hair, you can't really see much of his face, it's kind of long. He's pretty tall. Muscular. Nice fitted black shirt. I wonder where he got it." After a jab from Ig, he continued. "But I don't know man. We shouldn't mess with him. His name is Fang. They say he killed a man using only his pinky and a toothpick. He just served a year in U.S. Penitentiary in Marion."

Iggy lifted his head and took a good look at the guy. "He's perfect."

* * *

**And the shrew will make her debut appearance in the next chapter. Yay. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to all of you guys who reviewed. It's your fault I wrote twice as much and could update so quickly-kinda. I want yal to give yourselves a pat in the back. You guys (and gals) rock my socks. Speaking of socks, we shall begin the Chapter Two. Oh and remember, I'm secretly James Pat writing this spin off story. I own everything (note the sarcasm). **

**FOR CLARIFICATION: This story follows the life of Max, Fang, Iggy (all seniors), and Nudge (a sophomore). It contains all of their POV's, so it sometimes jumps around a bit. Also, Gazzy and Angel will pop in sometime, so don't start crying just yet (this is to the undying fans of the siblings). And remember the math: Reviews=faster update + happy author. Aiight, enjoy...**

* * *

In one fluid motion Fang whipped out his army knife and slit the preserved frog's belly open. He hoped those two guys were still watching. After hearing a gasp, he slowly looked up at the petite girl across from him who unfortunately had to be his lab partner. Her wide brown eyes were staring straight at him with fear and her lips trembled as she held on to her scapula for her life. Fang stared at her, daring her to be the first to look away. It didn't take that long for him to win.

Rumors. That's what started everything. Did he sell his liver on the black market for a new stereo? He wasn't that stupid. Did he sleep with a Spice girl? He wasn't too sure. Just as long as he was left well alone, he really didn't care.

Fang quickly folded his knife and replaced it in his pocket as Mr. Carps walked by. After innocently looking about the room for any nearby teacher supervision, he turned the Bunsen burner on so that a steady blue flame burst in all its full glory. Before he could light his cigarette, Fang felt a small tap on his shoulder.

"Um, hi there. My name is Mi-" Fang turned around and took a good look at one of the guys who was staring at him from before. His hair was a sleek jet black and reminded Fang of Greasers from the 50's. Not a bad look. The kid seemed unable to speak as he stared up at Fang, and after a short awkward pause, gave a nervous chuckle. "Well, I'm just gonna go back to my seat over there and um…cry." Did he really look that intimidating? Fang decided he didn't care.

As he watched the kid hurry back to his lab table, he felt the red-blonde one staring at him again. Annoyed, Fang turned his attention towards him, resisting the urge to bare his teeth.

* * *

"So class, what do you think of women's rights?" Mr. Martin drawled lazily, leaning back on his swivel chair with his feet up on his desk.

"Hey man, isn't that like a joke or something?" Sam Morris said, earning him a low five from one of his buddies. I rolled my eyes. Here I was expecting an intellectually stimulating class and all I got was a class full of sexist pigs. Feminist Prose of the Modern Age my foot.

"How bout you Max? As the only female in the class, how do you feel about the subject at hand?" Mr. Martin asked, examining the grit in his nails. Like he even cared?

"Women's rights? I personally like either side of them. The left is just as good." I quipped, anticipating his reaction. He didn't get it. Suddenly, Sam's hand shot up. I sneered at the jerkface brownnoser.

"Mr. Martin. I'd like to apologize on behalf of the more inferior sex. See, through my own experience, I've come to learn that there are two types of women: the normal ones, and the hormonal bitches. Unfortunately, we're stuck with the second type in our class." Did he just call me what I think he just called me? I felt like punching him in the face.

"I guess in this society being male and an asshole makes you worthy of our time." I retaliated, ignoring the reactions coming from the testosterone-filled classroom.

"As opposed to a bitter self-righteous hag who has no friends?" This earned Sam a playful punch in the arm from one of his goons.

I took deep breaths and tried to think happy thoughts concerning ponies and rainbows. After that didn't work, I decided to take Nudge's advice (she got it from some teen magazine so it _must_ work) and tapped into my inner chi. The last thing I remembered was Sam slamming his face against my fist. It wasn't long, before I found myself in the office of my dear old friend Mr. Galler…again.

* * *

"Hey Max, you know who's really cute?" Nudge asked, her voice practically dripping with syrup. I rolled my eyes, not even bothering to look up from my book. She wanted something from me. I could feel it in my bones.

"Max, are you even listening to me?" Nudge whined, sprawled out across _my_ bed with her phone literally in her face.

"No." I replied, trying to concentrate on the words and letters before me. At times like these, I cursed my parents for not letting me put a lock on my door.

Nudge gave a defeated sigh, then looked back down at her cell phone. After a moment of silence, she stood and started screaming bloody murder. I didn't even glance up.

"Nudge, did you watch House of Wax again? You know that Hilton girl gives you nightmares." I continued reading my book, hoping for _some_ peace and quiet. Nudge, Nudge, go away, let my ears bleed another day.

Unfortunately, my chant had the opposite effect. She marched right up to my beanbag chair and snatched my book away from my ever-loving arms.

"What is this?" she yelled, holding up her hot pink, custom-painted iPhone. I furrowed my eyebrows. This was most definitely a trick question.

"A phone?" I answered slowly. Nudge scoffed and put her other hand on her hip. If that was supposed to be menacing gesture, it sure got me worked up. I got on my guard just in case she decided to take off her earrings and heels for a fight (which I would totally win hands down).

"Why did Sam just send me a text saying he had to cancel our hot date tonight because some psycho beat the crap out of him?" I almost chuckled to myself before I remembered that Nudge was angry at me.

"I still maintain that he kicked himself in the balls. And punched himself in the face…" I shook my head. "That's not the point. You were planning on seeing him tonight?" I said incredulously.

"Well I was going to sneak out the window…" Nudge shot back in annoyance, suddenly finding our wooden floorboards fascinating. Oh please. She wouldn't have even gotten halfway out the window before I caught her. I knew this from countless years of experience.

"Nudge, just 'cause dad's halfway around the world on some mission trip does not suddenly mean you can suddenly start dating. You know the rules!" I exclaimed, slightly impressed by her boldness and yet disappointed in her taste in men.

Nudge groaned. "Max, can't you just date some blind-deaf looser so I can go on ONE date?"

"I'm sorry, Nudge," I answered, mocking her sing-song voice. "I guess you'll just have to miss out on the witty repertoire of Sam, "I'm such a man" Morris. So shoot me." I slammed the door shut, not even bothering to stay in my own room to hear her response.

* * *

After making sure Nudge was fully preoccupied with _The Notebook_ and wouldn't try any attempts to escape for her "hot" date, I grabbed my windbreaker and left the house for some night exercise. I jogged down about six blocks, and slowed to a stop right in front of a 7 Eleven.

My fight with Nudge on hearts and feelings had made me completely forget all about my poor stomach. Note to self: 11 energy bars does not constitute a filling meal. See how unhealthy drama is for a girl?

It took all of my willpower not to press my face up against the glass to stare at the row of jumbo beef jerky sticks lined up in front of the store window. After a lengthy and epic internal battle of my stomach vs. sensibility, I decided my survival was the most important issue at the moment and I entered the store.

All my hopes and dreams were dashed as soon as I dug out a paperclip, spoon, some fuzz, and 94 cents from my jeans. I frowned, wishing beef jerky and candy still cost a nickel like it did back in the day. Thanks America for amazing opportunities and an awesome economy.

After hunting around for something cheap, I eventually settled for a tiny can of Coke and headed out of the drink aisle just in time to see Sam's back slowly leaving the cash register with a suspicious black bag in hand. Ugh, the scumbag.

As I paid for my Coke, I couldn't help but glance out the glass doors. What I saw didn't make me happy at all.

* * *

"I always knew you were secretly into men," Max said, placing her hands on her hips. Sam casually glanced over his shoulder at the girl and released his hold around Jill/Jess (he couldn't remember which one it was). His companion choked in disbelief, offended my Max's petty words.

As Sam turned to meet the girl, he saw her trying to stifle a laugh. With as much pride as he could muster, he removed his new pair of shades, revealing a black shadow around his eye from the same psychotic blonde from earlier that day. He seriously had to get a restraining order on this girl.

"Sammy, who is hell is this bitch? Did you not just hear what she said about me?" Jill/Jess whined, latching herself onto him. Sam really wished she'd shut up already. Her high-pitched voice was giving him a headache.

"Yeah, _Sammy_, defend your girl's honor." Max scoffed. "I mean, just look at her," she added, taking note of Jill's (he decided on calling her that) clothing, heels, red hair and multiple layers of makeup. "She's obviously a keeper. I mean, compared to Nudge, she's _golden_."

"Nudge?" Sam said, giving Max a blank look. He smirked as he saw her cheeks heat up in anger. "I've definitely heard that name before…nope, never mind."

"Don't let your mind wander," Max sneered. "Its too little to be let out alone." Sam ignored her little comment, letting his arm snake once more around Jill. This gave him even greater pleasure when he saw Max clench and unclench her fists, trying to contain herself.

"Hate to break it to you, but once something stops being important to me, my memory gets a little fuzz – wait. Who are you?"

Max walked right up to Sam and took his hand, catching him by surprise. "I just want to congratulate you by shaking your hand. Congratulations, you've been named World's Biggest Cockroach. This award is given in recognition of your unparalleled lack of humanity. Bravo. You're going to die friendless and alone." Sam quickly release his hand from her grip, ignoring the numbing sensation he oddly felt come over his fingers and down his arm.

"Uh, Max? You do know that Nudge and I weren't official or anything. Remember? She's not allowed to date anyways." Sam shifted his eyes nervously, unsure about what Max would do next. But that was the thing about her; she was just so unpredictable.

"Just stay away from my sister," she growled, before turning away, wiping her own hand against her jeans in disgust.

"Not a problem. However, I can't guarantee she'll stay away from me." Sam knew he went too far right when he saw Max whipped back around. What he didn't expect was for her to come flying at him with a round-house at the ready.

* * *

I wanted to smack myself as I returned to the 7 Eleven, mentally beating myself up. How could I be so stupid? Being the impulsive girl that I am, I had left my newly bought Coke on the counter when I left the store to unsuccessfully butcher Sam. Way to be a responsible and _sensible_ adult.

As I reached the glass door, I bumped into some guy coming out. Before I could shoot him a dirty look or tell him to watch where he was going, I noticed that he had a Coke in his hand. Not wanting to jump to conclusions, I glanced over his shoulder and found the counter empty with my own similar drink nowhere to be found. Coincidence? I think not.

I looked up at his face and gave him an incredulous stare. The freakin punk had stolen my Coke! His messy dark hair barely covered his eyes and he was dressed in all black. I couldn't make out his face, but to be honest, he looked like a hobo.

Angry over the loss of my precious 94 cents, I grabbed the Coke from hands, popped the tab, and drained it in a matter of seconds. I was surprised by the large belch that escaped my lips afterwards, and embarrassed, I slowly wiped my mouth. Wordlessly and with my head held high, I shoved the empty can back to the thief, turned around, and headed towards home where _real_ food awaited my return. Victory never tasted so carbonated.

* * *

"I still can't believe you had me fooled," Michael said in disbelief as he and Ig walked down the school hallway. "Me! Of all people."

"I know. There goes your 'all knowing and powerful' spiel." Ig commented, still not understanding why anyone would think he was blind. He couldn't help but grin as he recalled his exchange on the phone with Michael last night in regard to the GMTDSICGTLOHL plan.

Somewhere in between their conversation, Ig's mom had called out from their kitchen about how she finally bought his new contacts. Michael heard her and asked Ig why he even needed contacts since he was blind. It all went downhill from there.

"Just remember, to still bump into things every once in a while okay?" Michael said nervously, just as they stopped in front of the classroom for Metal Shop.

"Um, why would I do that?" Iggy asked, a little confused.

Michael let out a nervous laugh and ran his hands through his hair. "Oh, I don't know. It's just that some jerk spread this nasty rumor about you being blind. He probably saw you bumping into crap and unknowing came to that conclusion, the bastard." Iggy narrowed his eyes. Uh-huh, that most definitely, possibly, might have, just hypothetically been the case.

"Besides," Michael added, more enthusiastically, "Chicks love that kind of stuff. Just the other day I heard some girls talking about you. Apparently they think that since you're blind…or you were," Michael added, remembering this new discovery, "then that means you're all deep cause you won't judge a girl based on her looks. Ig, my brother, you're now the sensitive 'hot' new guy that all the girls want. You really want to soil that reputation?"

Iggy thought about it for a moment then look at Michael. "You do have a point there." Michael's smile turned smug.

"And I'm back to being all knowing and powerful." Ig rolled his eyes as they entered the room.

* * *

"Okay, now go."

"No, you go!"

"Are you serious? I went last time!" Michael harshly whispered, thankful he actually had a legitimate excuse. He wasn't ready to die just yet. He watched as Iggy let out a defeated sigh, and gave him a pat on the back for encouragement. "If you die, can I have your potential girlfriend as well as all of your worldly possessions?"

At this Ig shot him a dirty look. "I hate you," he grumbled miserably.

Michael held his hands up in defense. "Your problem, not mine."

* * *

Iggy took another deep breath and slowly approached the possible ex-convict. As all tangible thoughts and emotions escaped his mind, Ig swore he heard Michael whisper something like, "May the force be with you." He was too nervous to even roll his eyes. He had trespassed into Metal Shop: Fang's natural habitat. He clutched his Computer Science book for strength.

He had to make this work. He had to have Nudge's heart because no mattered how cheesy it sounded, she already had his. Ig recalled Michael's failed attempt to talk to Fang, and decided to take a different approach: he'd entered from the side. Oh, and play it cool.

"Hi. How you doing?" Fang looked up and turned towards Iggy with a hard look of confusion. "Listen, I-" Iggy stopped and looked down when he heard the electric drill rev to life. Before he could fully put two and two together, he found himself staring at his steaming Computer Science book with a gaping hole in its middle.

"Okay, later then." Iggy said nerviously as he dropped his book and retreated back towards Michael. He didn't relax until they were both out of the room and out of Fang's line of vision.

* * *

"Virgin alert," said Ty, one of Sam's friends, nodding his head to the right where Ashley and Nudge were approaching from.

"Hey there ladies," Sam called out as they passed by. He smirked arrogantly when he saw them turn their heads towards him and giggle. As he appreciated their figures from afar, he somehow thought of what Max had said last night. It was then, at that very moment, as he undressed Nudge with his eyes, that he knew he wanted her. And he _always_ got what he wanted.

* * *

"How do we get Fang to date Max?" Michael stared through the hole in Iggy's ruined book, beginning to think all efforts were futile.

"I don't know," Iggy breathed, leaning against the hallway wall, forlornly staring up at the ceiling. "I mean, we could pay him…but we don't have any money." Michael nodded in agreement.

"Well what we need is a backer," Michael added, liking his idea the more he thought about it.

"What's that?" Iggy questioned, hope surging through his body once more.

"Someone with money, who's stupid." Michael turned to Iggy, a wolfish grin present on his face. "And I know just our guy."

* * *

Sam stood in front of the bathroom mirror, liking what we saw. That is, until he saw a short figure with jet black hair in its left hand corner just standing and watching him. In annoyance he turned around only to be met with an extended hand.

"Hello there. The name's Michael. Michael Casablancas." Michael lowered his hand when he saw no look of recognition flash across Sam's face. "We've attended the same school since the third grade. You used to steal my lunch money everyday for a year?"

"Are you lost?" Sam snidely replied, giving Michael a once-over.

"Actually no. I just thought I'd run an idea by you."

"Trust me, I'm not interested," Sam answered, turning back towards the mirror. This kid clearly couldn't take a hint. He decided to tune the guy out and was so far succeeding. That was until he heard Mitch, or whatever his name was, say Nudge's name.

* * *

"Fang?" Sam repeated incredulously. He looked around the bathroom nervously. "I heard he ate a live duck once."

"_Everything_ but the beak and feet," Michael added, glad he had Sam's enthusiastic attention. "Clearly he's worth the investment."

"What's in it for you?" the jock asked, slightly suspicious.

"Hey, I'm walking down the hall, I say hi to you, you say hi back," Michael replied, not even believing what was coming out of his own mouth.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You're cool by association." Sam nodded, liking the sound of the plan. "So all I have to do is pay the guy to take out Max and I can do _anything_ I want with Nudge?"

At this, Iggy suddenly busted out of a stall where he was supposed to be hiding, his face filled with rage over Sam's intentions. "If you even _touch_ her-" Before Ig could even take a swing however, Sam grabbed him by the collar and slammed him up against the wall. Michael flinched, knowing what that felt like.

"You think you can just eavesdrop on my conversation? Who do you think you are huh?" Sam's grip on Iggy's shirt tightened. "Answer me," he spat out.

"Hey man, leave him alone. He's _blind_ for Christ's sake!" Michael mentally gave himself a pat on the back when he saw Sam slowly release his hold after a moment of consideration. Ig owed him BIG time.

"You're lucky you're handicapped or you would've been a dead man." Sam said, backing away from Iggy. He then turned to Michael, ignoring the presence of the latter. "You've got yourself a deal Casablancas." And with that, as well as one last glance at the mirror, Sam left the bathroom in search of Fang.

* * *

"Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go," Michael philosophically proclaimed once Sam was no where in sight. Iggy didn't even hear him.

"What are you doing dragging him into this?" he worriedly questioned, dragging his confident friend aside.

"Don't worry about it. Sam's all bark and no bite. We let him _think_ he's calling the shots. While he's busy setting things up, _you_ have time to woo Nudge."

Iggy thought this over for a moment. "That's actually not a bad idea. Yeah, okay, let's do this," he added, a little more enthused about the GSTPFTDMSTICDTLOHL plan also known as the Get Sam To Pay Fang To Date Max So That Iggy Can Date The Love Of His Life plan.

Michael felt like he was on a roll. He was seriously having thoughts about becoming the next Dr. Phil. He later dismissed it, knowing he was too good for that kind of crap anyways.

* * *

What the (insert swearword of your choice) was going on? One moment Fang was napping in the grass, and the next some idiot was blocking his sun. Fang removed his hands from behind his head, peeled an eye open, and stared up at the dark figure looming over him. He removed the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth and slowly sat up, exhaling deeply. He purposefully ignored the guy and stared out across the field where the girl's soccer practice was being held.

"I had some great duck last night," Sam blurted out, trying to ease the tension and awkward silence that ensued. Fang slowly looked up at him in confusion. Was this guy retarded?

"Do I know you?" He asked, hoping the dumb jock would run away screaming like all the others.

Sam cleared his throat and decided to start all over. "You see that girl over there?" he asked, pointing out a blondish-brown haired girl in a soccer uniform with her hair tied back. Fang unwillingly turned his eyes to glance her way, and immediately recognized her. As he recalled, she owed him a nice cold Coke.

"That's Maximum Ride. I want you to date her."

Fang couldn't believe his own ears. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say old pal." He scoffed and ran his hand through his dark hair in disbelief. Too many strange things were happening to him these days.

"Look, I'm not asking you some kind of personal favor," Sam said more boldly, already loosing patience. "It's a _job_. One that I'm willing to supply generous compensation for. We're not exactly exchanging friendship bracelets or anything."

"I'll stop braiding," Fang answered, aimlessly staring at the scorched grass where he was putting out his cigarette.

"Look, I can't take out her sister until Max starts dating. And that's where you come in."

Fang huffed in disbelief. "You're going to pay me to take out some chick? How much?" he asked. Who could resist the seduction of glorious cash?

"20 bucks," Sam answered. They both looked out onto the field towards the blonde and flinched as they watched her aggressively shove another girl out of her way to kick the soccer ball in a nice and _friendly_ game of scrimmage. "Fine, 30," Sam added after Fang gave him a look.

"I take her out to a movie and that's like what, 15? We buy popcorn so that'd be another 20 bucks. Oh, and she'll want Raisinets, so the total would be about… 75 bucks." Fang said thinking the cost over. Yup, seemed reasonable. If he was going to have to take out _her_, he might as well get well paid for it.

Sam scoffed in agitation. "50. Take it or leave it." Fang took one last glance towards the girl on the field and nodded in agreement, wondering how he'd even get her to talk to him. He kept his eyes on the girl as Sam gave him the money, not even bothering to acknowledge the guy as he left.

* * *

"We know what you're trying to do with Max Ride," the taller one shouted, trying to be heard above the noise. Fang removed his welding mask and stared at the tentative speaker and his shorter friend. It was like bizarro world. People were just flinging themselves at him left and right, trying to be his friend. Wasn't he Miss Popular today? He shuddered.

"Is that right? And what do you plan to do about it?" Fang asked, focusing back down on his independent Metal Shop project.

"Help you out," Iggy answered, looking as if he were surprise that Fang could actually talk. What was he expecting; primatal grunts and gestures?

"Really. Why's that?"

"The situation is: my man Ig here, has a major veneration for Nudge Ride." Michael interjected from behind Ig. "Now, I think I speak correctly when I say that Ig's love is pure. Purer than say, Sam Morris'."

"Look, I'm only in it for the cash. Sam can do whoever he wants. I don't really care." Fang glanced at the clock. He only had 10 more minutes to finish his project. What was the point of this conversation again? He glanced back at the two and saw Michael put his hand on Ig's shoulder either trying to restrain him or calm him down. Probably both.

"I don't think you understand this Fang. _We_," he said, pointing towards himself and Ig, "set this who thing up so _Iggy_ can get the girl. Sam is just a pawn." Fang stared down at the them, finally giving his full attention.

"So you two are going to help me tame the wild beast?" Fang couldn't believe the luck he was having. First money and now mini sidekicks. He was pretty much getting cash for free.

"I'll do some research, and find out what she likes. Meanwhile, Ig will help you with your look." Michael said, confidence practically oozing out from him.

"I will?" Iggy said, turning towards Michael in confusion. Fang silently chuckled as he saw Michael give him a look that pretty much said, _work with me here_.

This wasn't going to be too bad, Fang thought. In fact, he might actually have _fun_.

* * *

Fang felt self-conscious; and _that's_ saying a lot. He fingered his newly cut hair, most of his forehead feeling awfully cold and lonesome.

"To be honest, you're smoking! And I mean that in the expression--seriously man, don't smoke in my house." After Fang put out his cigarette, Michael continued, trying to sound encouraging. "If I were Max, I'd definitely be all over you." Fang wasn't sure if he should have felt creeped out. He certainly did get chills however.

"You seriously looked like Cousin Itt before," Ig added, making an oh-so-clever Addams Family reference. Fang shot him a look. "I didn't even know you had a face under all that hair."

Fang grumbled to himself. He did not sign up for Extreme Makeover Season 3.

"Did you find anything out about her?" he asked, trying to divert the conversation away from how craptastic he looked before. He really didn't need an ego boost.

Michael sighed. "No, not yet, I'm working on it however. Just focus on getting a date with Max okay man? That's all you have to worry about." Fang frowned. That's all he really _did_ worry about.

* * *

**Push in on our hero. Natural light frames his handsome, weathered face, as he meets the ridiculously attractive yet shrewd heroine. The music swells. (Just a little sneak peek into the next chapter. Prepare to be blown away.) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey sorry it took so long to update. Thanks to all the reviewers, you guys are reason I continue writing this story. Anyways, hope yal enjoy! **

**P.S. Remember the disclaimer; I'm not going to constantly deny my identity as James Pat and repeatedly say "if I was, Fang would be mine." I also don't own 10 things because "if I did, Heath would also be mine." Now that we're clear and I hopefully wont have any legal issues, onwards!**

* * *

You know those people who can predict when change is coming in their life? I'm not one of them. Change has a way of just walking up and punching me in the face.

1) My dad came home from his **one month** long mission-trip. Now, don't start freaking out. Child-neglect is not part of our household. It actually lives halfway around the world in a small village of Nigeria in a tiny church called "House of Prayer." Nevertheless, dad was home where he belonged. That meant no more "hoppin" parties, underage drinking, and wild nights of debauchery. Oh shucks.

2) Either I was getting even more paranoid than usual or someone was seriously following me. Why would I think this? Well, other than listening to my heart, it was fairly obvious. I decided to confront the creep when the next opportunity arose.

3) Sam was actually give Nudge the time of day. Unfortunately, I wasn't too sure if it was just to get on my nerves or to get in Nudge's pants. Although both made me blanch and think homicidal thoughts, my senses were all over the second possibility like jam on toast. Sam would have to die a slow and painful death.

4) Concerned for my social life as a dainty and sensitive teenager, Mr. Galler, the school's guidance counselor, stuck me in Drama class for sixth period. He was probably hoping I'd make some bizarre, lasting friendship with the next Dakota Fanning. I had to resist the urge to do a cartwheel from sheer excitement and anticipation.

And best for last right? Well, I got into Sarah Lawrence! Although my dad wasn't too thrilled, the news had me jumping up and down, squealing like a girl. In celebration, Nudge offered to spend some girl time with me. Blinded with pure joy of being accepted into my top college, I unconsciously agreed. Now I have glossy toenails, "wispy" bangs and layered hair. I'm practically a new woman.

To celebrate my college acceptance in a more me-fashion, JJ, a _friend_ of mine (take that school guidance counselor!) took me to see "A Nightmare on Elm Street." Tired of the lack of character development and predictability of the film, we decided to blow that popsicle stand and head over to 7 Eleven for some nutritious ICEEs instead.

"So have you heard about Bogey Lowenstein's upcoming party this Friday night?" JJ asked while we were filling up our frosty drinks. Since when did we go to parties? Scratch that. Since when were we even _invited_ to parties?

"Am I naked? Because in my nightmares, I'm usually naked," I said, staring at her as if she had spontaneously grown an extra limb. My slurpee soon overflowed onto my right hand from neglect.

She rolled her eyes. "No one expects us to show. It'll be like crashing their -and this is by their definition- totally 'slammin' party. Besides, it's not like you have plans," she added matter-of-factly. I knew JJ didn't mean that in a rude way. She was just real, and she stated things how they really were.

"Actually, I was _planning_ on staying home and renting a movie with my dad. You know, to reinstate him into the family," I said, wiping the cold mess from my hand. Did I have such plans? I guess now I did.

"Wow, congrats Maximum Ride. You are officially Padua High's most boring person," JJ retorted as we headed towards the cash-register.

"Did I mention the movie might be PG-13?" I teased, setting my frigid ICEE on the counter. Before she could answer however, the cashier interjected.

"Oh, I was wondering when I would see you again." I furrowed my eyebrows. Was he trying to hit on me? Just then he pulled out a small can of Coke from underneath the counter. "You left this here a couple nights ago. You paid and everything so I wasn't too sure what to do with it."

Wait. If that was my Coke right there, then what about- oh. Oh crap. Was I a jerk or what? I mentally clicked my heels three times and repeatedly wished I would never have to encounter the guy I stole a measly can of Coke from. Because frankly, who'd want to subject themselves to that awkward torture?

* * *

Jeb Ride looked between his two beautiful girls at the breakfast table, mail in hand. Something was up. They both looked strangely content and weren't butting heads for once. He quickly dismissed this thought and decided that this was simply his good parenting put into action. He focused back on the pile of bills and magazines that had accumulated over one month's time.

"So, senior year Max. How have your first few weeks been going?" he asked, examining the pricey electric and water bill. Jeez, did these girls sleep at night with all the lights and faucets running?

"Great!" Max answered a little too enthusiastically. "Been beating up a freshman, stealing his lunch money and then skipping out after lunch everyday."

"What, no pre-martial sex?" Jeb joked, lifting his head to his daughter, already knowing yet still anticipating her answer.

"Oh, yea…yes. But don't worry dad, I swear you're gonna like these guys," Max replied, finally looking up and giving him a big grin. He returned the gesture and gave her a wink. That's his girl. She was his little trooper, and frankly, he was over the moon with her not giving starry eyes to that Zac Elfron character. It was his second daughter he spent sleepless nights fretting about.

"And you princess? Did you make cheerleading tryouts?" he asked Nudge, trying to conceal an impending frown. He secretly wished against his daughter's happiness, not liking the idea of her wearing an exposing outfit and waving pompoms at manly, hormonal football players full of testosterone. The thought of that alone got him all worked up.

"Well, daddy," Nudge started, looking down at her breakfast plate in disappointment. Jeb found himself resisting a victorious smile. "I'm co-captain! I'm the only sophomore in Padua's history to ever hold that position!" Nudge burst out happily, jumping up and down in her chair.

Jeb's smile died in a flash, replaced by one of false approval. Why couldn't some of Max's charm rub off on Nudge? He sighed and gave up on the mail, already looking forward to yet another marathon of late-night shows and other various television programs available to consumers at 3 a.m. He could hardly wait.

* * *

Michael pressed himself against the lockers, hoping she didn't see him. He whipped his head to glance around the corner. Once. Twice. Three times. After deciding the coast was clear, he resumed his stalk- ahem- surveillance. Was he good at this or what? The only problem was that he had lost her again. Damn.

Suddenly, the girl sprang out from a classroom and hit Michael in the solar plexus with her inner wrist. Struggling for breath, the pain soon shot to Michael's head as she seize his left ear and started dragging him.

Before long, he found himself in the girl's bathroom with Max glaring at him, her hand still gripping his ear. His neck was seriously starting to hurt from craning to the side as she violently tugged on it threateningly.

"You want to tell me why you've been stalking me?" she questioned, venom dripping from her voice. Michael desperately racked through his brain for a legitimate excuse. However, when Max received no immediate answer, she yanked his ear even harder.

"Alright! Alright! I'll tell you…but do we have to be next to the feminine hygiene machine?" he whimpered, glad he could get that thing out of his line of vision while also buying himself some time.

"Oh, right. Sorry," Max mumbled, releasing her grip from his ear as they both moved towards the sinks. Of all the things to be sorry, she was sorry about _that_? This girl seriously had some issues. She then crossed her arms expectantly. "Well?"

Michael gave out a nervous chuckle. "Well, see I…" Michael took a big gulp. "I…like your friend!" Michael wanted to smack himself senseless. That was the best he could come up with? But he had to hand it to himself. If he hadn't followed Max around school or stared at her during lunch, he wouldn't have even known she had a friend. Max snorted.

"That's funny, I like her too. Want to tell me the real reason before I rip your spine out from your back and beat you with it?" Was this girl for real?

"No I'm serious. The way her chestnut hair undulates in the wind. Her hazel vibrant eyes. Her deep love for Shakespeare. I-I think I'm in love with her!" He blurted out, desperately trying to save his spinal cord.

Oh god. He was starting to sound like Iggy. He did however congratulate his quick ability to harness his accumulated knowledge and gave out a deep sigh of relief when the shrew lowered her hostility levels by a few notches.

"Do me a favor; _never_ describe me." Max replied, all business. Michael felt his face heat up in embarrassment. He really had gone over the top. "So why follow _me_?" Max added, breaking the awkward and discomfited silence that had ensued.

"I wanted you to put a good word in for me?" Michael answered, questioning himself. It was kinda maybe somewhat possible right?

Max rolled her eyes and spit out a threat concerning the removal of his lungs with tongs. After Michael watched her exit the bathroom, he gave himself a face palm. What useful thing did he learn for Fang today? Only that Max was officially a crazy. After checking if the halls were clear, Michael exited the girl's restroom, grumbling to himself and rubbing his poor ear. Things were not turning out as he had hope.

* * *

"Hey there beautiful," Sam said, approaching her locker. Nudge gave a small smile and turned to see him. Was she lucky or what? She looked up at him dreamily, admiring his hair that softly fell over his eyes, his amazing biceps and his little smirk. Did she mention his amazing biceps?

"So you going to Bogey's thing this Friday night?" Sam asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Nudge inwardly swooned, not thinking it physically possible for her day to get any better.

"Yeah, I might," she replied, giving him a shy smile.

"Good, cause I'm not gonna bother if you won't be there," Sam said, running his hand down her bare arm. OMG. Nudge's mind was racing. All she could do was bite her lip and suppress another smile. Unfortunately for her, the bell rang right at that exact moment. "I guess I'll see you there then," Sam added, giving her a wink before he turned to go to his next class.

Nudge really hoped Iggy had found some guy for Max already. She just _had_ to go to this party. In fact, her teenage life depended on it.

* * *

Fang was walking down the South hall when he saw her. Her head was leaning against the vending machine and she remained motionless even when her drink was ready and waiting in the dispenser. Was she dead?

Just then she stirred drowsily, lifting her head away from the bright blow-up image of a Coke bottle on the soda machine. Fang suppressed a laugh as he watched her wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. So Max was a drooler. Unlike Michael, he had found this out _without_ stalking her…

As she then bent down to lazily grab her Coke from the vending machine, Fang gave a little smile and continued on his way. All in due time. He was going to see her soon anyways. Besides, even if it was already Tuesday, he could definitely get her to go with him to Bogey's party on Friday. Then Sam would be happy and he would get his supply of cash. Everything would work out just fine.

* * *

I felt completely zombified. To be honest, I got no sleep last night. Nothing, nada, zip. Every time I even thought of closing my eyes, I saw Freddy Krueger's grotesque face in my head. Note to self: Never watch another slasher film EVER again. There's a reason why they're rated R kids, and let me tell you, it's definitely not for crude humor or subtle sexuality.

So by the time I reached my new Drama class, I was officially seeing things. Crossing my fingers for good luck, I desperately wished we wouldn't do a "warm-up" activity like charades. If I fainted or had a some kind of heart failure due to my lack of sleep, I wouldn't want to be in the middle of a charades game. It would especially suck if my classmates were bad guessers.

_Stop being so pessimistic Max. Even I f optimism is overrated, it's better to face reality head on. In actuality, you're quite fine._

I rolled my eyes at the voice in my head. And yes, I do hear a voice in my head. It's like the Sixth-Sense!

_Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm a schizophrenic and so am I. _

I sat down in a dirty and stiff auditorium seat all the way in the back, trying to avoid being seen by my new Drama teacher, Mr. Jay Frank: the man with two first names.

"Now class, if we could all fill in these few front seats, we'll get started," he said, looking at me expectantly. I snorted, crossed my arms, and stared at him. Before the Frankster could pop a vein, the auditorium door slammed open.

"Hello young man. You're just in time. Please take a seat…" Mr. Frank started. I rolled my eyes as all heads turned towards the new arrival. Latecomers were typically attention seekers. Attention seekers were typically annoying. I decided I'd have to keep my distance. But that was before the little bugger plopped himself right down next to me. "In the front," Frank added a little too late, his jaw tight. I carried a similar expression, resisting the urge to move to the front myself.

"So now that we have everyone here, we are going to play a little icebreaker called 'Two Truths and a Lie' to meet all the new students. Everyone, please find a buddy." I stiffened as I felt the creep turn his head towards me.

"You alone?" he asked, his eyes on me. I refused to meet his eyes, and decided to pick off some invisible lint on my jeans instead. That was always the safe way of telling people you weren't interested in what they had to sell: whether it was friendship or drugs. For this guy, I wasn't too sure which one it was.

"That's alright, I prefer it," I answered, giving myself a mental pat on the back as I sensed the guy hesitate. Was I being a bit too harsh?

"You have to tell your partner two facts and one lie. Then they have to guess which one is the lie, all right class?" Mr. Frank piped up, as the small auditorium buzzed with conversation.

"You wanna go first?" my neighbor asked, oh so gentlemanly. I sighed. I knew I'd have to do this eventually; besides, at least it wasn't charades. I turned towards him, slightly surprised to see nice olive skin accompanying chocolate brown eyes. He ruffled his short hair and glanced back down at me as I examined his leather jacket. Had I met him before?

"Okay. Well, I'm Max. I like cheese, I won a hotdog eating contest three years ago, and I once shot a man in Reno just to watch him die," I told him, sounding bored.

"Oh, how'd that go?" Mr. Darkandmysterious asked, refering to my murder "fact".

"It was a bit of a letdown," I answered, folding my arms across my chest, waiting for his guess on which one was the lie.

"Hmm, well, I don't believe you like cheese," the guy said, confident in his guess.

"Wrong. Your reasoning?" I asked, giving him a small smirk. I was actually starting to like this guy. Watch out school guidance counselor: here's my Dakota Fanning.

"I don't know," he replied blankly, "I was more under the impression you liked Coca-Cola."

And just like that, any possible friendship we could have had just died. I tried to suppress a blush of embarrassment, and settled for a blank look. So this was my victim of jumpingtoconclusions guy. Right before me! Drawing on my fine command of the English language, I said nothing.

* * *

"My turn?" he asked playfully, "Well, my name is Fang, I used to be part of a Backstreet Boys revival band, my father owns a Ford dealership, and I also shot a man in Reno, but it wasn't to watch him die. It was for, uh, other issues." To be honest, Fang didn't even know which ones were true or not.

"Your father doesn't sell Fords," Max stated, narrowing her eyes. Fang tried to suppress a laugh. This girl was proving to be way too much fun.

"That's right, Toyotas. How'd you know?" he answered, smiling a bit before he fully realized what he was doing.

"It's all in the eyes," she replied as he chuckled. "Care to explain the Backstreet Boys?" Fang glanced around to check if anyone was in earshot. He really hoped she wouldn't repeat this to anyone.

"My brother made me audition a few years back. They kicked me out when they realized I was too man," he explained in all seriousness. He furrowed his brows when he heard Max snort.

"Doubtful, very doubtful," she responded, rolling her eyes.

"What, you don't believe me? I could prove it to you." Max gave him a confused look. When she made no other effort to reply, he added, "Pick you up Friday night?" Everything went down hill after that.

Max started laughing; not exactly the kind of reaction that would boost a guy's ego. Not wanting to cause a commotion, Fang made a move to clamp his hand over Max's mouth. His hand returned to him with teeth marks on his first two fingers.

Fang jumped in surprise when Max deadpanned, suddenly serious. Was this girl bipolar or something?

"Never in a million years," she shot out, before picking up her messengers bag and making her way for the door with 20 minutes still remaining in the period. Fang frowned as he watched her leave. Maybe he had come in a bit _too_ confident.

* * *

"What have you got?" Fang asked, glancing between Michael and Iggy as they sat down next to him during lunch. Max was a difficult woman, and he needed all the help he could get.

Michael whipped out a list and answered confidently, "Well for starters, I've found a few things through my investigations."

"You mean your stalking?" Ig mumbled to himself as Michael ignored him. Fang almost cracked a smile. Michael seemed much more enthusiastic than need be compared to Ig.

"First off, Max hates smokers," Michael said, removing the cigarette in between Fang's fingers as if it was plagued. Fang furrowed his eyebrows.

"So you're telling me I'm a…_non_-smoker."

"Just for now," Ig interjected. "Afterwards, you and the black lung can finally be together once more." Fang gave him a confused look. These two seemed to get stranger each time they met. He hoped it wouldn't rub off on him.

"Oh, here's another problem," Michael added, glancing further down on his list. "After much trouble and internal debate, I've come to the conclusion that Max likes…pretty guys." Both Michael and Ig looked up to examine Fang for a few awkward seconds.

"Are you telling me I'm not a pretty guy?" Fang shot out threateningly.

"No, no you're very pretty…"

"I just wasn't sure…"

"You're a gorgeous guy…"

"That new haircut…"

"Your guns…and I mean that in the muscle sort of way, not in weapons, please."

Fang stared at the two and commenced to wait until they had stopped their nervous mumbling. "Why do you think she likes…pretty guys?" he asked, finding himself spitting out the last part. He didn't think he ever had to use the word "pretty" before. He shuddered as he thought of it becoming a part of his daily vocabulary.

"You'll never believe it. I thought she had same-sex tendencies until I saw a few blow up posters of David Beckham in her bedroom."

Ig snorted in disbelief. "Fang, we are now looking at this year's 'Most Likely to Get a Restraining Order Due to Obsessive Stalking.' I can already see his title and picture in our yearbooks." Fang grunted in agreement.

"Anything else?" he asked, wanting to get back on topic.

"She has concert tickets to see some girl band tonight at the Aragon Ballroom," Michael said, checking his sheet of paper again. "I think they're called Tegan and Sara."

"Not a chance," Fang shot out menacingly. "I can't listen to them. Those chicks can't play their instruments."

"Aren't they lesbian sisters?" Ig added, probably thinking there was some correlation in Max's admiration for the band. His eyes shifted between Michael and Fang. Michael rolled his eyes.

"Just assail your ears for one night, make an appearance, and sweep her off her feet okay?" Michael said, handing Fang the list.

Fang sighed in annoyance. Just as he was about to light another cigarette, Michael shot him a look. He had a bad feeling about this whole plan.

* * *

**Yal ready to partay? -Hint for Chap 4. **

**So I'm apologizing ahead of time: my finals are coming up soon, so my updating may be slightly erratic. Just FYI**

**And remember the math: Reviews=faster updates + happy author :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey so I'm extremely sorry I haven't updated in about two weeks. To make up for it, I made this chapter incredibly long. Yay!**

**So I've decided to do this since you reviewers melt my heart like cheese (as well as you subscribers).**

**Review of the Day (you know who you are): Lol. Stalkers scare me. This is easily one of my favorite AHs. Seriously. **

**I'm glad you were able to relate your life to this story. Seriously :)**

**Oh, and before I forget...**

**Disclaimer. **

**Okay, onwards!**

* * *

Mr. Galler quickly folded his paper and tossed it in his desk drawer. He was just barely able to remove his feet from on top of his desk before the daunting off-blonde barged in. He gave her an innocent smile and made a move for his right ear.

"Don't you dare turn off your hearing aid or I swear I will get you fired faster than you can say 'toupee,'" Max threatened, rage rolling off her in waves. Mr. Galler slowly lowered his hand from his ear, defeated.

"It's nice to see _and_ hear you today my dear. What excellent guiding do you need _this_ period?" He mentally frowned at his mocking words. Was he being too harsh? He shook his head. Sometimes you just had to fight fire with fire.

"Switch me out," she snapped, obviously irritated. "If it's about the absence of my social life, I'll join knitting club or anything, just switch me out of Drama." Mr. Galler sighed. Teenagers and their hormones. It was always an emotional rollercoaster with them. He looked up at her intimidating figure standing in front of him.

"I'm sorry dear, I just can't. I placed you in a program aimed towards the passionless and unfeeling student. You have to pass this class in order to graduate," he explained, giving her a sympathetic smile. He knew where she was coming from, but honestly, Max needed to interact with other students on a more personal level.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Mr. Galler gave a slight smile. Resistance was futile. Besides, this class could just turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to her…besides Sarah Lawrence. Oh right. He had forgotten to congratulate her. Darn old age.

"Oh and Maximum? I would like to take this moment of your silence to congratulate you on your entry to Sarah Lawrence." He smiled up at her, glad he had kept his glasses on to see her ever-changing facial expressions. He flinched when she gave him a murderous glare.

"That's just the thing Dick. I don't _need_ to take this class. I don't even _have_ to remain in school for the next semester. I'm set. I'm _passionate_ and I have _direction_. And I don't need to deal with this festering, steaming pile of _crap_."

Earplugs. That's what he needed to use next time. He mentally grinned at the idea, imagining Max in a silent film with everything black, white, and soundless. Ahh, those good old days.

Richard Galler glanced at his watch. Five minutes had passed. He decided to tune back in to Max FM, knowing that at this time, she would typically be throwing random insults and threats at him. He loved hearing this part of her spiel the most.

"If ignorance is bliss, I swear you must be the happiest man on earth," she shot out, still frustrated. Mr. Galler just nodded his head wordlessly. The best defense was the best offence.

After quite some time, he watched the teen storm off, even more irritated than when she had entered. At this, he smiled to himself, knowing Drama would change her life for the better. She just didn't know it yet…right?

* * *

Fang unconsciously fingered the item in his jacket pocket. Tic-tac's? Really? He had glared at the duo when they had given him a few "necessities" for Mission 1: Concert. He snorted as he thought of the "alluring" cologne Michael had also handed to him. Like he would even need it? Seriously. There's a reason why cologne rhymes with alone.

Fang took a deep breath and removed his hands from his leather jacket to ruffle his hair. To be honest, he was downright nervous. He instinctively reached towards his back pocket for a smoke before he remembered he was now a _non-smoker_. Agitated, he stepped into the main room only to be met with deafening music and surging crowds. As he aimlessly searched for Max amongst the multitudes of people, he couldn't help but wince as the band started up another song that had the crowds screaming.

_Blow by blow_

_I didn't see it coming_

_Blow by blow_

_Sucker punched_

Fang frowned as he heard the beats vibrate throughout the room. He never did like the acoustics of the Aragon Ballroom. Heck, he never even liked Tegan and Sara. That was, until he spotted Max dancing right next to the stage with her friend.

_Rushes in_

_Here to stay_

_Rushes in_

_You are here to stay_

_What rushes into my heart and my skull _

_I can't control _

_Think about it _

_Feel it in my bones _

_What rushes into my heart and my skull _

_I can't control _

_I feel you in my bones _

_You're knocking at my windows _

_You're slow to letting me go _

_And I know this feeling also _

_This feeling in my bones_

Fang couldn't help but smile as he watched her swaying to the music. He loved the way she danced, with her arms lazily raised above her head, eyes closed, looking so serene. He lightly shook his head. What was wrong with him? He turned around and started towards the bar. He would need something strong to rid the ridiculous thoughts that plagued his mind before he could even think about approaching Max that night.

* * *

_Left hook _

_I didn't see it coming _

_Left hook _

_You've got dead aim _

"I need agua!" I shouted, barely even able to hear myself. J.J. popped an eye open and nodded in agreement. To say we were parched would have been an extreme understatement. I turned around and struggled through the masses of sweaty people. That was always the downside of concerts: other people were there too.

_Rushes out _

_Run away _

_Rushes out _

_You always run away _

_What rushes into my heart and my skull _

_I can't control _

_Think about it _

_Feel it in my bones _

_What rushes into my heart and my skull _

_I can't control _

_I feel you in my bones_

_You're knocking at my windows _

_You're slow to letting me go _

_And I know this feeling also _

_This feeling in my bones _

_I feel you in my bones _

"Two waters," I shouted towards the bartender, putting up two fingers in case he didn't hear me. He nodded in understanding and reached down to retrieve two water bottles.

_I feel it in my bones _

_And then my skull feels (pressure) _

_I feel it in my bones (pressure) _

_I feel it in my skull_

I looked to my left and spotted a familiar mess of raven hair looking extremely sketchy. I rolled my eyes in recognition. Was this guy following me? The creep stared straight ahead, pretending he didn't notice me. Really now? As the bartender handed me the water, I clenched my jaw and made my way over to the loser.

"Should I be flattered or utterly creeped-"

"Do you mind? You're kind of ruining this musical experience for me," Fang interjected, glancing up at me with his drink in hand. I scoffed as he lifted his glass to his lips. Fang liked Tegan and Sara? Uh-uh yeah. And the moon is a block of cheese.

"Not surrounded by your typical cloud of smoke," I stated, giving him a once-over. Besides the absence of cigarettes, he still had on the same black combat boots and black leather jacket. This guy really knew how to mix it up.

"I know, I quit. Apparently it's bad for you."

I rolled my eyes. "You think?" Fang glanced back up and me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. I swear if he's going to ask me out again…

"You know. These chicks aren't too bad compared to Yeasayer or The Dears," Fang shouted above the noise, ditching his drink at the bar and leaving me speechless from shock.

_I take a breath _

_Take a breath _

_With me blow by blow _

_Take a break _

_Take a break From you _

_You are here to stay _

_I take my heart out of my chest _

_I just don't need it __anymore, _

_Take my head out of the game_

_I just don't need it anymore_

Not wanting to catch flies, I quickly closed my mouth and followed him through the hordes of people.

"You know who The Dears are?" I asked incredulously. Alternative music just didn't seem like it suited him.

"Why, don't you?" he asked, stopping to give me a look. I snorted. Just because he knew my music taste didn't suddenly make him know everything about me. But still, he just never seemed to stop surprising me.

I silently scowled as I heard the song coming to a close. It was one of my favorites and I had just missed the majority of the live performance because of this guy.

"I was watching you out there before," Fang said, nodding towards the front of the stage where I should have been dancing. "I've never seen you look so sexy."

Talk about bad timing. The music ended just as he had said that last part, and everyone in the concert hall turned to look towards Fang and I. As the crowd giggled and cooed, he looked into my eyes and gave a slight smile which I returned after rolling my eyes playfully. Surprises, surprises. Maybe he wasn't as craptastic as I thought he was.

"Come to Bogey's party with me Friday," he prompted, staring at me as a new song began. I couldn't help but laugh at his determination.

"You never give up do you?" I responded, feeling the sweat beads of the cold water bottles running down my hands. Or, at least I hoped it was the water bottles that were making my hands all clammy and nervous.

"Is that a yes?" Fang asked, glancing at the huge speakers. He winced as the music blared, meshing all the notes and sounds to make a tangle of noises. He was probably annoyed by the crappy acoustics of the room. I know I was.

I snorted, and turned around in an effort to return to J.J. "No," I replied, forcing myself not to look back at him. I didn't want to look too interested. Because I totally _wasn't_.

"Well then, was that a no?" he called out from behind me. I grinned, thankful that he couldn't see my face.

"No," I repeated, laughing out loud at my own inconsistency and the grin that I swear I saw on his face from the corner of my eye. Why not keep him hopeful? Especially when I was too?

* * *

Friday had come all too soon, and Nudge was feeling rather nervous. She really hoped Iggy had done his part and that Max would attend the party. Nudge took a deep breath and peeked into the kitchen. Her frown worsened as she found Max wearing loose black yoga pants and an old ratty t-shirt. So Max wasn't coming? Oh whatever. She'd just have to sneak out.

"No!" Jeb Ride shouted, causing Nudge to nearly jump out of her skin. Did he know what she was planning to do? "If child services finds out about this, they will take you away."

Just the tone of her father's voice sent her on a massive guilt trip. He knew. He knew that she was going to defy, lie, and sin against him and God. Just as Nudge was about the burst into the room and apologize to her father with tears of remorse, she heard another voice.

"Well, that's a risk I'm willing to take." Max. It was Max's voice. He was talking to Max.

Confused, Nudge peeked into the kitchen again to find her father and sister sitting side-by-side on the counter with sundaes before them. However, Max was the only one enthusiastically slathering caramel sauce on her ice-cream.

"Honey, shouldn't we try something at the base of the food pyramid for dinner? You know; fruits and vegetables?" Jeb asked, scratching his head.

Max gasped in fake surprise. "What's this?" she asked, pulling something out from her sundae. "A maraschino _cherry_."

Nudge rolled her eyes as the two laughed and dug into their "dinner." Those two were always like that, cracking jokes and doing crazy stuff like "dessert for dinner night" and so on. They were so embarrassing. Shaking off this thought, Nudge quickly got down on her stomach and commenced towards the front door in an army crawl. Perhaps wearing a red dress and heels was not the smartest choice in clothing for this means of escape.

"So, you have any plans for tonight other than pigging out on dairy products with your old man?" Jeb asked, directing this towards Max. Nudge paused, already halfway to the door. _Please, please, please say you're going to Bogey Lowenstein's party,_ Nudge mentally pleaded, wishing Max could hear her desperate attempts at telepathy.

As Max laughed, Nudge imagined her lightly elbowing their father's side. "You know I have Terminator 1, 2 _and_ 3 just waiting to be watched. You up for it?" After hearing Max's plans, Nudge let out a sigh of frustration. Sneaking out was thus her only option.

"Okay honey. Just don't forget: you're a high school girl. Do some high school girl things now and then," Jeb encouraged. Nudge furrowed her eyebrows. Jeb always told her the exact opposite and here he was _cheering_ Max on? Life was so unfair.

"Relax, Dad. I'm cutting pictures of Ashton out of _Teen People _as we speak," Max replied. At that, Nudge couldn't help but giggle. The thought of her sister doing something that out of character was just too much for her too handle.

"You should've used the window," a voiced said from above her. Oh crap.

Nudge hesitantly looked up to see her father's amused face. When did he get there? Defeated, she lifted herself from the ground, trying to ignore her father's glances towards her clothes and makeup. She'd just have to revert to Plan B: beg and plead like there's no tomorrow.

* * *

"Relax daddy. It's just a party," Nudge desperately said, giving puppy eyes a whole new meaning.

"Unless Max goes, you won't," Jeb answered, feeling slightly remorseful when Nudge's eyes turned downcast. It wasn't that he didn't trust Nudge. He just didn't trust the hormonal teenage boys of today's society.

Nudge scoffed. "People expect me to be there." Uh-uh.

"And I expect you to stay home. But we can never get what we want can we?" Jeb answered, standing firm as Nudge gave out an agitated groan. They both then turned towards the stairs as Max came down with a few DVDs in hand. "Hey, you know anything about a party?" Jeb asked, directing his question to his first daughter. Max shrugged without a word and continued on to the living room. Nudge quickly followed her and latched onto her arm.

"Max please. Can you for just one night forget that you're completely wretched and just be my sister? Please? Go to Bogey's party with me? Please?" Nudge pleaded earnestly. "Please? Do this for me?"

Jeb never thought he would want to watch the Terminator with Max any more than he did that at that moment. Do more high school girl things? Did he really just say that to her five minutes earlier?

Jeb watched Max's contemplating eyes, and looked disheartened when she finally rolled her eyes at Nudge and agreed to go. As Nudge squeezed Max from pure joy, Jeb knew it had begun.

"Just be back by midnight," he quietly said, staring at his polished wooden floorboards. Nudge surprised him by giving him a full-blown hug, and he gladly returned it. He just hoped his girls would be safe.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" I asked, pleasantly surprised to find a certain someone on my doorstep. I had just slapped on my windbreaker and had grabbed my keys before I flung the door open to find yours truly.

He gave me a slight smile. "9:30 right? I was going to pick you up but I guess I'm early," Fang answered. Who said ever said chivalry was dead? Oh right, me. Whoops.

"It doesn't matter, I'm driving anyways," I answered, moving past him towards my red '97 Toyota Corolla. Nudge had left earlier with her friend Ashley probably to spare herself from the embarrassment of driving in my jank car. Way to conserve gas eh?

As Fang wordlessly sat in the passenger's seat beside me, I took a deep breath to prepare myself for both the awkward ride and the party ahead. God help me.

* * *

Michael wandered throughout Bogey Lowenstein's mansion in search of both Ig and Fang. He felt a bit more than claustrophobic in the packed residence, and every which corner he turned, there were full-blown make-out sessions occurring. Literally _everyone_ had shown up to the party. Social standings did not hold any constraints that night, and Michael was very thankful for that.

Walking through the third floor, he spotted the backside of a lone brunette standing by the stairs. Although he couldn't even see her fully, Michael had faith that she'd be ridiculously attractive and somehow magically fall in love with him. What could he say? All these plans of love were rubbing off on him. He straightened his collar shirt and pulled on his confident look. Now was his chance to make a move.

"Hey there. You know, I'm thinking of buying a Prius. That's right, it's a hybrid," he said, smugly. Girls loved rich guys. He just had to pretend he was one.

Michael jumped back when the girl turned around to face him. It wasn't that she was hideous; in fact, she was far from it. She was just too familiar.

"Asses are made to bear, and so are you," she replied distastefully examining him up and down. Of course. The Shakespeare-obsessed girl. This was…Jill…Jan…Jen…Jennifer Joy! Max's BFF. Michael wanted to slap himself. If she was somehow associated with the Maximum Ride, what was he getting himself into? He decided to take a little leap of faith.

"My acquaintance is coincidently at this homely gathering with your companion. I therefore should say you are 'a little more than kin and less than kind!'" Michael smiled to himself as he saw the girl's expression soften. Her face then lit up into a playful grin.

"How is it that the clouds still hang on you?" J.J. asked, looking at Michael with enthusiastic expectations.

"Not so, my lady; I am too much in the sun," Michael asserted, smiling at the girl before him. She returned the gesture and spoke again.

"Hamlet, Act I, Scene-"

"Scene II, lines 64-67," he finished. He mentally gave himself a pat on the back. She was obviously impressed.

"The name's J.J.," she said, giving him a small curtsey. Michael stared at the girl, obviously smitten.

"And I, Michael," he answered, bowing to her. She gave a little laugh and returned to her original state of leaning against the railing overlooking the two floors. Michael followed suit and watched the drunken dancing below, occasionally glancing at the girl.

"What were you saying about my friend and yours?" she shouted, trying to be heard above the music and chatter that was being emitted from the dance floor.

"Watch," Michael replied, pointing down to the second floor where he spotted Max making her way up through the crowds of people. So Fang had succeeded in bringing the shrew to the party. The only question was: Where was Fang?

* * *

Sam grinned when he saw Nudge walking towards him. Tonight was definitely going to be memorable. He quickly took another shot of tequila offered to him and downed it in a matter of seconds. Wrapping his arm around Nudge, they then headed down the stairs to the dance pit.

"Hey Max, look who found me," he called out to the said girl when he spotted her. Max's brown eyes pierced his and then shifted towards her own sister. As Nudge avoided eye contact with her sibling, Sam took pleasure in seeing Max's fist clench and unclench repeatedly.

As they walked right past her, Max reached for her sister, "Wait Nudge, I have to tell you something."

Sam smiled smugly when Nudge retorted. "Look Max. I'm busy trying to enjoy my adolescence. How about you do that same?"

And with that, Sam took Nudge's hand and they left the irritated girl to go dance. With a victorious smile plastered on his face, Sam briefly looked behind him just in time to see Max grab a shot of tequila and down it in one gulp. Good for her. He always thought she needed to loosen up at bit.

* * *

Fang reached Max just in time to see her down a couple shots. Wow.

"What's this?" he asked, taking the glass out of her hand as she reached for another. He gave an aggravated sigh. If this girl puked, he was _not_ going to hold her hair back. "I've been looking all over for you," he shouted, trying to be heard above the music.

Max just rolled her eyes. "I'm getting trashed, man. Isn't that what you're supposed to do at a party?" She made another move for the tray of glass shots before Fang grabbed her hand.

"I don't know, I say do what you want to do. And somehow I have a feeling you _don't_ want to drown your sorrows here at Bogey's party," Fang reasoned, staring down into her eyes.

She scoffed in defiance. "You're right. What's the point in drinking? I'm going to talk to some food about this," she said as she removed her hand out of his grasp and headed downstairs towards the kitchen. Fang made no effort to follow her.

_Or you could talk to __**me**_, he thought, quickly ridding the notion from his head as quickly as it had appeared. Fang looked up, feeling nervous. Someone was definitely watching him. On the third floor stair railing was a random girl standing next to Michael. Huh. Good for him. The girl gave Fang a wave as Michael gave him a thumbs up. Fang just nodded and turned around, ruffling his hair.

He needed a drink - no - a smoke. Then he'd be just fine. But then who would take care of Max? He growled in annoyance as he stalked off to find the crazy girl again.

* * *

Ig's plan was working perfectly…except for the fact that he couldn't find Nudge anywhere. He had been searching for her since the first moment he and Michael had arrived to Bogey's mansion. But that was over an hour ago. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. Where was she?

As if God was answering his prayer, Ig spotted Nudge coming down the stairs. He smiled shyly as he walked forward, feeling slightly nervous. She looked so beautiful and pure right then…like an angel.

But before Ig could even take a step towards her, he saw that wiener Sam pull his arm around Nudge. As if on cue, Nudge's eyes met with Ig's for a brief second before diverting her gaze back to Sam. It was then, as he watched Sam whisper in Nudge's ear that Iggy knew: she never liked him; never even wanted him. She didn't care about the precious 40 minutes they spent everyday together in Computer Science. She didn't curse the days off of school like Iggy did, knowing it was just another day he wouldn't be able to see his lab partner. She probably didn't even remember that they were supposed to meet that Sunday to work on their project.

Ig took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He felt dumb and uncomfortable just standing in the middle of the dancing pit, staring at Nudge and Sam. But he couldn't help it. It was almost as if his heart was being wrenched out from his body and then butchered into a thousand pieces.

Disappointed, Iggy trudged up the stairs away from the couple and stopped when he reached a small table with drinks laid out. He tentatively grabbed a shot glass and stared down at its contents only to see thee image of Nudge's smiling face. Ig took a deep breath. She was happy right? Wasn't that was all that mattered? With that thought in his mind, Ig poured the contents of the shot glass out into the small trash bin beside the table and walked away. He had to find Fang and Michael. The plan had to be called off.

* * *

Nudge was _not_ having a good time. She felt like if she looked up the word egotistical and annoying right then in the dictionary, Sam's picture would show up underneath both of them. Did he really think she was interested in hearing about how great he was at sports, or did he just love to hear himself talk? Nudge was putting her money on the second one.

The night had only gotten worse when Sam got incredibly drunk:

_Sam slung his arm around Nudge's neck for the twentieth time that night, his breath reeking with alcohol. Did he think she was his personal arm rest? Nudge wanted more than anything to escape. _

"_Heyyyy babe. I got four words for youuu: Hol-i-day Inn!" Nudge rolled her eyes and squirmed out of his embrace. That was just about the worst pick-up line she had ever heard. What was this, Jerry Springer? She had to find Ashley and leave ASAP. _

_Nudge left Sam and his friends and headed upstairs. She'd start with the bedrooms and then look down from the third floor staircase railing. A bird's eye view of the party would easily help her find Ash._

_Nudge surveyed the mosh pit, only to link eyes with Ig. He was standing right in the center of the dance floor, staring up at her with a look of…regret? Misery? Nudge couldn't tell. She quickly looked away, too ashamed to even think about him. Just then, Nudge spotted Ashley coming out of one of the bathrooms, wiping away a few lipstick smudges. _

"_Is it just me, or is does this party all of a sudden suck?" Nudge asked, taking Ashley's arm and heading for the stairs._

"_Nudge, it's only 11:15. Did you expect a ride back this early?" Ashley asked in disbelief. Before Nudge could answer, a voice yelled from behind them._

"_Ash, where you going?" _

_Nudge glanced behind her friend to see Ty, a friend of Sam's, coming out of the same bathroom Ashley had also exited from. Woah. _

_Ashley looked over her shoulder and gave a little smile. "I'll be right there!" She then turned to Nudge, "Sorry hun, but I think you're going to have to find your own ride back. I might not leave for sometime," she added suggestively, smiling a bit before squeezing Nudge's hand and returning to Ty. _

_Nudge scoffed in disbelief. Bitch. What ever happened to Sisters before Misters or Chicks before Dicks? She shook her head in annoyance and decided to return down the stairs._

So here Nudge was, roaming the party in search of Max because everyone else in her life seemed to have let her down. Hearing excited shouts and howls, Nudge looked back into the room where she had left Sam only to find him shirtless and stripping in front of a large crowd. She rolled her eyes. Who cared about abs when he had the personality equivalent to a piece of cardboard? Nudge moved onto the next room only to see Max completely intoxicated and being carried out by Iggy's guy. Well, there went her ride.

* * *

Iggy found Fang on the second floor, making his way down the stairs. He took a deep breath and pulled Fang aside towards the railing, ready to just bluntly tell him the truth.

"Fang, the deals off. Forget it," he said, trying to hide his disappointment. Fang searched through the mosh pit below, not even looking as Ig spoke. Was he even listening to him?

"What are you talking about?" he finally shouted back, glancing at Ig for a brief second before returning his gaze below.

"She never wanted me. She wanted Sam the whole time," Ig replied, feeling like a total idiot. Maybe he should've taken that shot of tequila…

"Iggy," Fang said, taking him by the shoulders and finally giving him his full attention. "Do you like the girl?" he asked, staring him dead in the eye. The terrible rap music roared throughout the whole house so that Ig barely heard the question.

"Well, yes." Ig shouted, trying to be heard above the music. The only problem was that Nudge didn't like him.

"And is she worth going through all this trouble?" Fang added, making Iggy second-guess himself.

"Well, I thought she was," he replied in frustration. Fang wasn't paying him any of his attention anymore.

"Look Ig. She either is or she isn't. Firstly, Sam isn't half the man you are. Secondly, don't let anyone make you feel that you don't deserve what you want. Go for her!" Fang shouted, leaving Ig with that thought as he raced down the steps.

Iggy's eyes followed Fang's movement until he saw him reach an intoxicated Max who was making her way through the crowds. As he rubbed his temples, he took a deep breath. _Was_ Nudge worth it?

* * *

Fang tried to grab the shot glass from Max's hand when he finally found her. He didn't know how many she had had, but judging from her lack of coordination and her drunken stumbling, he guessed it was quite a few. Was this girl psycho? She pushed him out of her way when he tried to reach for her glass again.

"Get your own," she slurred in annoyance before continuing past him. Fang clenched his jaw. He was not in the mood for babysitting. He quickly turned around and caught Max's shoulder just before she could walk into a wall. Before she could protest anymore, he then lifted her up and slung her over his shoulder. Oof. What did this girl eat? Rocks?

Fang retained a stoic façade as he headed for the front door as crowds throughout the entire house cheered him on and wolf whistled.

"You know, contrary to common belief, this is just about the worst and most vexatious means to carry someone," Max lazily drawled when Fang exited the house. He huffed as he dumped her on some lawn across from Bogey's house. Wasn't she ever the complainer?

"Leave it to you to use big words when you're smashed," he mumbled, throwing himself down next to her. He felt exhausted and terribly responsible for Max's drunken state.

He heard Max hiccup and turned his head towards her. "Why are you even doing this?" she asked, looking up at him drowsily. Fang scratched his head in reply, not even sure of his own intentions. Money. Yeah, that was it.

"Well, you did drink a lakes worth of tequila," he answered as Max hoisted herself up to a sitting position and leaned against her palms.

She scoffed. "Like you care?"

"Sure I do," he answered absently, staring at Bogey's party from across the street. He briefly wondered how Ig was doing with Nudge before Max brought him back to reality.

"Why?" she demanded, staring at him. Fang refused to feel uncomfortable by all the questions she was shooting out at him.

"Because then I'd have to start taking out girls who actually like me," he joked, prodding her forehead with his index finger. She snorted in response.

"Like you could find any?" she quipped, rubbing her temple and giving him a dirty look.

"Oh, see that there. Who needs affection when I have blind hatred? I mean, ever thought that maybe I was completely and irrevocably in love with you?" he teased, anticipating her reaction. Maybe going to this party wasn't completely a bad idea.

"Oh…um, okay," Max answered quietly, staring at the grass before her with such interest, refusing to look at him.

What? She was actually going to accept what he said without a fight? He was sure there would be some epic battle, massive bloodshed, and tears of mayhem. This was a certainly a new alternative.

"You believe me?" Fang asked in surprise.

Max laughed and turned to look at him. "How could I not when you're batting those Maybelline lashes at me?" Oh. So she was just joking. Never mind. Same old Max.

Fang chuckled to himself and met eyes with the girl beside him. She tilted her head sideways as she absentmindedly stared at him.

"Hey. Your eyes have a little green in them," she said softly, giving him a little smile. Fang returned the gesture and chuckled to himself. This girl…

As Max took a few deep breaths, Fang glance up at the night sky. Tonight wasn't too bad. Plus, Sam had offered him an extra 30 dollars for all his troubles. Content, he turned to find Max leaning towards him, her face looking a bit strangled. What was up with her?

Fang didn't fully register what was happening until Max heaved her all dinner out onto his lap. Smelling the rancid vomit that reminded him of vanilla and rotten cherries, Fang pursed his lips. Great. Just great.

* * *

"Some party huh?" Ig asked miserably as he passed Nudge beside the front door. He couldn't stand being here anymore. What a complete waste of his time.

As he exited the house, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nudge bite the bottom of her lip nervously. _Please say my name. Please remember my name. Please say my name_, he chanted, hoping his thoughts would magically be acted upon.

"Hey Ig?" Nudge called out nervously. Iggy closed his eyes for a brief second and thanked the heavens for answering his prayer. He turned around nonchalantly, trying to look casual and unaffected.

"Yeah?" he answered coolly, not wanting to seem too hopeful. He was going for a _Oh. You. Lab partner. Hey, what's up?_ kind of look but instead felt like a complete idiot.

"Um, do you think you can give me a lift home?" she asked nervously. Ig wasn't sure if he should shoot her down or accept gladly. Was this a sign? He sure hoped so.

* * *

"So why'd you let him get to you?" Fang asked, driving behind the wheel of Max's car. Would he let her intoxicated self drive home? Not a chance.

"Who, Sam?" Max asked, exhausted. When Fang nodded, she took a deep breath and continued. "I hate him."

Fang couldn't help but agree. Not only was Sam a total tool, but he had also compelled Max to drink the whole house dry. She was just so stubborn and dumb sometimes.

After a moment of silence, Max turned on her car stereo to some mix CD she had. "I should do this," she said, nodding her head as if agreeing to her own idea.

"What, start a band?" he asked. Yeah, he could see that. Max could be the lead singer of a screamo band.

"No install car stereos," she answered sarcastically. "Yeah, start a band. My father would just _loooove_ that." Fang furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"Why, what's up with your father?" Fang asked. He knew Max's dad was a missionary, but he didn't know much else about him.

"Jeb just…" Max started, a bit hesitant. "He just doesn't know what he wants. He wants to be at home with me and Nudge but he wants to go out a save the world one lost soul at a time. He wishes my mother didn't die, but he knows it was all part of God's plan. He wants me to be more like Nudge, but he doesn't want me to completely lead a teenage life." Max answered, her face flushed from her little speech. Fang nodded in understanding. He then pulled up to her house and cut the engine, silence blanketing their surroundings.

"Maybe he's just scared. Like, he's afraid he'll completely loose all the people and things that are important in his life." Wow. Who knew he was so philosophical? Feeling accomplished, Fang searched Max's face to see her reaction.

She snorted and furrowed her eyebrows. Uh-oh. "What, so now you think you know me?"

"No, but I'm getting there," he replied. At this, Max's expression softened and she stared into his "greenish" dark eyes. What did he know about her? He knew she drooled in her sleep, was a fierce sarcastic fighter (possibly due to when her mother died), played soccer and the guitar, loved cheese as well as alternative music, and hated conformists. Some list right?

"Look," he added, trying to break the strange yet comfortable silence that had ensued. "I know everyone 'digs' your sister, but…she's without." Did he seriously just say that? Oh God. Had he just indirectly complimented her? Why was he fighting this anyways? Afterall, didn't he think it was true? Max was different compared to Nudge. In fact, she was different from all the girls he met. And different was _always_ better.

Max gave him a little smile. "You know, you aren't as vile as I thought you were." Fang chuckled in return. What was that supposed to mean?

This last functioning thought soon fled from his mind when Max closed her eyes and slowly leaned towards him. Was she going to puke on him again? But wait. This seemed way too familiar. Different girls flashed through his mind as he stared at Max's lips. Did she actually want to kiss him? With a girl like Max, he kind of expected her to not even think of guys as romantic figures; rather as…rocks and mountains. Oh, god. Did he just make a Jane Austen reference?

Fang shook his head, trying to stop all the questions and doubts that reeled through his mind. He focused back on Max and was surprised to find himself gently gazing at her face. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the dark "moody" lighting, but at that moment, Max looked like…a girl. Without her tough armor on, Max was indeed beautiful. This scared Fang the most. His revelation seemed to humanize her and thoughts of her no longer evoked money signs. Fang took a silent deep breath, feeling a bit nervous. Riding on that fear, he took Max's shoulders in his hands and leaned in.

* * *

**Hi there. So as weird as it seems, I have a little character-crush on Michael and I think he deserves to be happy (not that being happy requires a "soul mate"). But would it be overkill if I set him an J.J. up? Just a little food for thought. Hope yal enjoyed. **

**FEATURED MUSIC: Tegan and Sara - Feel it in My Bones**


	5. Fang's Folly

I had decided Fang Batchelder was a complete douchebag. And yes, I do realize that this acknowledgement meant that at one point I thought him to be otherwise. But whatever, that millisecond in Drama where I thought we'd be biffles didn't even really count.

So both Fang and Sam were on my _Hate with Every Being and Fiber in My Soul _list. This list served no other purpose than to just remind me to snub and glare at them with an expression of absolute fierceness.

Not Tyra Banks fierce, but more along the lines of "I hope my glaring makes your nose spontaneously combust and melt the flesh off your face" fierce. I wasn't too sure if the feelings were mutual, but it obviously wasn't exactly one of the embraced, fuzzy kinds.

"You're scaring customers away," J.J. smirked, crossing her arms over her chest with a dishrag in hand. I half-heartedly rolled my eyes in response, somewhat glad for the distraction from my hateful thoughts.

Somehow I always knew I'd be that girl working after school and weekends at the local Starbucks, trying to scrounge up enough money for college. That Starbucks at Barnes and Nobles on Main Street? We were destined for each other.

Coincidently, J.J. also secured the barista job with me. I don't know, I guess Starbucks had a high demand for teenage labor as opposed to the older 4 million people in the U.S. currently out of work. Funny, huh? Minimum wage, here I come.

"Did you hear that J.J.?" a male voice interrupted, coming out of the door that read **EMPLOYEES ONLY**. He grinned at us as he tied his green apron around his waist. "I think our Maximum just growled at the past three customers. You know what this means right?" he grinned maliciously, crossing his stupidly muscled arms across his stupidly toned chest.

I ignored him and turned around to stare at the pastries behind the glass case. If real friends were being complete assholes, food was always the perfect alternative; it never talked back and only made you feel better about yourself.

"It means the Employee of the Month spot will be minnnee," he teased excitedly, taking my head in a headlock and mussing my hair. The jerk. He released me after he and J.J. had a little laugh and playfully punched my shoulder. "Wow, I actually have no idea what compelled me to do that," he added with a laugh.

"Is it because you're five?" I grumbled as I retied my ruined hair, smoothing the loose and static strands away.

"See, now that kind of attitude-"

"-will get you no where in life," I finished for Dylan as J.J. stepped up to the counter to take someone's order.

Ever since we started working here, Dylan was constantly riding me about my attitude. Well, you know where _he_ can shove his attitude?

Okay, fine. Maybe I wasn't a pocketful of sunshine, but my attitude wasn't _that _bad right? I mean, compared to the jerk offs on my Hate list, I was frickin Gandhi.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, trying with painstaking effort to seem a bit more saintly and pious. "I'm a little punchy. Haven't exactly been sleeping." Did I spend all last night crying like a heartbroken teenage girl after my little drunk episode with Fang?

Yeah,_ no_.

I just had something in my eye.

"Thoughts of me?" Dylan teased, as I thought it ironic that I was actually thinking of another prick. "Hey, I get it. Sometimes I'm up all night just thinking about myself."

I mockingly laughed then crossed my arms. "Down boy. You better watch that ego of yours before it turns into a hover-board." He shrugged innocently and turned around to make a Café Americano for the customer J.J. was handling.

Now ladies, if Prince Charming actually did exist and wasn't 99.99% gay, Dylan would be this desirable being. Complete with dark, honey-colored hair and turquoise eyes, Dylan belonged on the front cover of _People_ Magazine's Sexiest People issue. I felt my face flush as I watched him work.

Not _watched_ as in, "I'm going to stand in this corner and soak in all your beauty while secretly taking pictures of you with my pint-sized camera. Don't freak." but more of an analytical, "I should learn from my ridiculously attractive senior staff member on how to fill coffee cups. Ah. Press button, press off." gaze.

For a few seconds there, my thought process tweaked and I began to compare him with Fang. Dylan was slightly taller. More muscled too. I mentally smacked myself. Woah. Brain fart.

As if reading my thoughts on Fang, J.J. turned around, placing her hands on her hips. "You like him. No matter how many lists you create, no matter how many times you try and convince yourself otherwise, you like Mr. Dark and Mysterious. You _yearn_ for him."

I briefly glanced at Dylan and swore he slightly titled his right ear towards us. I decided to play it cool. No need in being all defensive.

"Oh really?" I asked indifferently, picking invisible lint off my shirt.

"'Nothing can come of nothing.'" she shrugged. "You obviously keep thinking about him for a reason. As my dear Shakespeare once wrote, 'The course of true love never did run smooth.'"

I forced out a laugh. "I do _not_ like Smokey," I replied, referring to Fang. Yeah, we had code-names. So what? Don't all girls?

"Oh, get off you high horse Max. He quit smoking-for you. How is that not love?" J.J. rolled her eyes at me. Well, wasn't she little Miss Voice of Reason?

"He doesn't love anyone, especially me. He's socially retarded, a total _dick_, and has a dark hole where his heart's supposed to be. Sure, he has nice eyes. But they're _soulless_." Okay, fine. Maybe I was being a bit dramatic. But seriously.

"Relationship problems?" Dylan asked, turning to face us.

"Shut up," I snapped, feel flustered and agitated as I recalled the memories from last night. I turned towards J.J. "How can you defend him? I told you what he did to me last night." Dylan's head snapped up in confusion. He was so out of the loop. I felt for him. I really did.

"You probably just jumped to conclusions and stormed off like always," she shrugged, sounding so reasonable and smart at that moment. I wanted to punch someone in the face. Remember those good ol' days when I used to always be right? What ever happened?

"I mean, he probably didn't want to take advantage of you in your weak and vulnerable state…"

"J.J. this isn't helping in my fit of seething rage," I pointed out, "I'm not trying to be rational and optimistic, I'm trying to be angry." I could not have her brainwash me with her reason and wisdom! Next thing I know, she'd probably convince me to apologize to _him_.

"You know what will make everything feel so much better?" Dylan asked, his back turned towards the counter. What was this punk doing now? "A latte!" He turned around and presented a whipped drink. This kid did not know his coffee. Judging from the smell, it was a peppermint _mocha. _Ooohhhhhhhhh.

I rolled my eyes, trying to resist the temptation. "Is this what we've resorted to? Stealing company supplies or… company drinks?"

Hey, what can I say? I'm an honest, respectable, "Gandhi-like" kind of gal.

J.J. shrugged. "If it makes you feel better, then yes. We are thieves…thieves of happiness."

Dylan nodded in agreement, inching the cup of coffee closer to my nose. Oh, how de-lish. Must. Resist. "We simply bring joy and coffee to the needy. Kind of like Robin Hood…minus the tights."

Well, I always was an adamant believer of eating and drinking my feelings away…

I took the warm cup from him, and inhaled. I was in my own little world called coffee heaven complete with coffee-flowing fountains, coffee flavored ice cream mountains, and a coffee God. So yeah, I'm a coffee-junkie. Don't judge.

I took a sip while they both watched me. My toes tingled in pleasure and my reeling mind calmed down. I was on cloud nine. Nothing could ruin my newfound good mood. _Nothing_.

"Oh by the way, Michael said that when your heart-breaker visited him last night, his face looked like someone had just died." J.J. said, looking excited. What the hell is wrong with her? I spit my coffee out onto the floor. What a waste. "This probably means that he felt bad about rejecting you," she added, not understanding what was so wrong about her previous statement. I didn't even hear her.

My heart sank as I stared at J.J. in disbelief. Was I really that much of a turn-off? That my drunken attempt to kiss him would make him look like someone had just died? I closed my eyes, trying to suppress any memories of what had occurred. But whatta you know? It all came flooding back:

"_Maybe we should try this some other time," Fang said in a low voice. My eyes shot open to meet his own. Excuse me? I quickly leaned away from him, feeling like a drunken idiot. Oh wait, I was one. _

_My nostrils flared in anger and I glared at him in response. His face held no expression as he stared into my eyes. Judging by the fiery blood that was rushing to my face, I was either going to hurt something or break down crying. Since I was never one for the waterworks, I settled for the first option._

_I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt and stumbled out of the car, making sure to slam the door as hard and loud as I possible. How could I have been so stupid? It wasn't like I actually liked him or anything. Oh God. He's never going to let me live this down. I felt my cheeks heat up again, but not in anger. Embarrassment? Gross, I felt like a stinkin girl._

_Alcohol. Yeah, that was it. You know kids, there's a reason why they say alcohol can kill. It kills brain cells; tons and tons of brain cells to the point where you'd be willing to kiss any random creep with nice eyes. I mean, look at me. I'm a fine example of that._

_I entered the house, not even caring that Fang was in my car and still had my keys. Yes, I felt like punching infants. Yes, I was incredibly miserable. Yes, I did want to run back outside, grab Fang and wring every ounce of life left in his flailing, decomposing body. Fortunately, I had enough sense to remember that I did not want to get slapped with murder charges._

I guess you could say his dick status was completely cemented after that.

"I think she's actually growling for real this time," Dylan whispered to J.J., pulling me back into the present. I rolled my eyes and subconsciously worried about going cross-eyed from the major eye-rolling action I was doing these days.. Was that even possible?

J.J. took my hands as Dylan went over to the counter to take another customer's order. "Hey, how about we just forget about all of this and party at Lil' Pete's Coffee Bar tomorrow tonight? It's Karaoke Night Sunday. How can you resist?" she grinned, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Gasp! A different coffee shop? You traitor," I smirked, already forgetting about stupid guys and feelings.

She shrugged, not even bothering to defend herself. "Starbucks has shit pastries anyways." And with that, it was a date.

* * *

Nudge stared at her ceiling with a small smile, reminiscing about the end of last night's events. To say her night had taken a pleasant turn for the better would have been a lie. Her night took an AMAZING upwards turn.

_After an awkward and silent drive, Ig stopped his car in front of Nudge's house. She reached for the door handle. Should she thank him for the ride, or would it be even more awkward after the way she treated him? _

"_Tha-"_

"_You never wanted to go out with me right?" Ig bluntly asked, searching Nudge's face. She just stared at her folded hands on her lap. "You used me," he painfully said in a low voice, sending Nudge on a massive guilt trip. She remained silent. _

_What could she say- Yeah, I used you to get with Sam but then realized he's nothing compared to you? _

_Um, no. _

_Ig scoffed, "Have you always been so selfish?"_

_Unfortunately yes, Nudge thought. Gosh, WWMD? What Would Max Do? She'd snort, roll her eyes, and karate chop something. Nudge had a feeling this wasn't the most appropriate thing to do in a situation like this._

"_I mean, I really liked you. I loved the fact that you were both smart and beautiful. I loved every minute we spent together in Computer Science. I defended you when people called you conceited and shallow. I helped you when you asked me to and then you just blow me off so you ca-" Nudge silenced Iggy's lips with her own. How could she have been so stupid? He was right in front of her all along._

_After some time, she parted and looked up at him with a ghost of a shy smile playing on her lips. Her first kiss. Just as she imagined it. She bit her bottom lip, trying to resist an elated smile, and reached for the door. Without a word Nudge slipped out, gently closing the door behind her. As she walked up to her house, she glanced over her shoulder to find Iggy-her Iggy-smiling back at her from his car. Who knew a whole conversation could be spoken with only looks? _

Nudge's pleasant recollection was cut short when she heard something land on her bedroom floor. In the three seconds it took her to fully register the situation, her brain processed the following remarkably fast:

1) Her bedroom window=open

2) At the open window next door across from hers stood two little kids laughing and pointing in her direction

3) There was stink bomb on her floor. Oh.

As Nudge struggled to reach her door in an attempt to escape, the bomb exploded, emitting it's poisonous gases throughout her room. Well, wasn't she going to smell like a basketful of roses? Those kids were _so_ dead.

Suddenly, Max barged in carrying a blue nerf gun, not smelling too spiffy herself.

"This means war!" she snarled as she reached the window, poking her head out. Apparently the little buggers had gotten Max's room too.

At the open window next door stood a boy with spiky light brown hair, laughing and sticking out his tongue. Deeper inside the room, was a small girl with blonde curls clutching a white stuffed bear. Oh were they going to get it.

Max aimed her blue gun and fired. "Take that, you traipsing little monkeys!" she cried out almost manically, shooting the boy directly in the face with one of the small, cushiony nerf balls.

After he recovered, he and his younger sister magically whipped out a carton of eggs from an unseen stash of evil warfare supplies (suitable for children).

"Oh, shi-" Max started, slamming the window shut just before it was pelted with eggs.

"And to think. That could've been your face right there," Nudge stated, as they both watched egg residue slowly slide down the window pane. Max clenched her jaw.

"This is so not over. We have to take some kind of revenge." And with that, she made her way to the door.

"Where are you going?" Nudge shouted, as she heard Max running down the stairs.

"Next door!" came her reply. Nudge's eyes widened as she ran to her front window that overlooked the entire lawn and her neighbor's porch. As she watched Max ring the doorbell next door, Nudge nervously wrung her hands. If Max got arrested, she'd certainly be one lonely child.

* * *

"Hey, so I got the inside scoop on the complicated and estranged shrew," Michael rubbed his hands, glancing between his two friends. He let the dramatic silence hold, expecting some kind of drum roll. None came.

"Well?" Fang asked impatiently, playing with his lighter.

"Let's just say that girl hangs on to resentment like a Confederate widow," Michael replied, not wanting to repeat Max's exact words. They weren't pretty. Then again, nothing that came out of Max's mouth was pretty.

"What did you do to her? Everything was working perfectly," Ig grumbled in frustration, kicking the dirt beneath the park bench he was seated at.

"Nothing. Besides, why does it matter to you? I thought you wanted out." Fang replied, pulling out another cigarette. Since Fang's visit last night, Michael had seen Fang go through three cigarette packs. Last night had obviously upset him.

"Well that was before Nudge kissed me," Ig arrogantly shrugged, his mood suddenly shifting, looking pleased.

Fang's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You sure it wasn't a dream?"

"Well, I'm 96% sure it was real," Ig smugly replied. Michael's eyebrows furrowed as Fang gave a confused look. How could there be any percentage of doubt?

"Patience Fang. Win Max you will," Michael said in a Yoda voice, interrupting the awkward silence in an attempt to bring the conversation back on track. Fang just rolled his eyes as Iggy huffed in frustration. Michael sighed. These two needed to have a little faith in providence. They should just let the chips of fate fall where they may. After all, look at him. With much patience and endurance, he had managed to win a date with the smartest and most beautiful girl he had ever met: J.J. Everyone else just had to learn from his example.

* * *

Iggy tried to hold back a grin and failed. As he glanced down at his and Nudge's hands entwined, he couldn't believe how lucky he was. Just yesterday night, wasn't he grumbling and calling quits on Nudge? And now look where he was: at a carnival for Padua Elementary (hosted by the High School), holding hands with Nudge. Life couldn't get any better.

"So I have tickets to go to the Taste of Chicago (**AN: It's the world's largest food festival at Grant Park in Chicago with food from popular restaurants as well as live music. It's like a dream come true**). I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go with me? I know how much of a food guru you are, and was hoping you'd be inspired by all the amazing cuisines to one day cook for me," Nudge grinned, half-jokingly.

"One day…" Iggy teased, earning him a nudge from Nudge. (**Sorry. Bad pun. Couldn't help myself. Hehe.**)

"I mean, we'll have to get Max and Fang back together if we want to go, but just think about it okay?" She answered back, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before she headed off to buy cotton candy from a nearby stand.

Think about it? He already knew he was going no matter what.

* * *

"Hey there Nudge," a voice spoke from behind her in the line for cotton candy. Already knowing whose distinct and arrogant voice that belonged to, Nudge rolled her eyes and slowly turned around, plastering a fake smile onto her face as he added, "Haven't seen you since last night. You bolted out from that party real quick."

"Yeah, I was feeling a little sick," she shrugged, hoping he wouldn't be able to see straight through her lie. But in a way, she was feeling sick. Sick of Sam Morris. "What are you doing here?" she gritted out politely through her teeth. His presence was already ruining her perfect secret date with Iggy. Couldn't he just evaporate and bother some bimbo with big boobs?

"I was here with the guys, and spotted you standing in line. We're just about to head out to a party, and I thought you would want to come with."

Well wasn't he thoughtful?

"Sorry Sam," a beat, "Besides my dad is here," she lied. "You know the rules: I can't date unless Max does."

"Yeah, I'm working on that." He confidently smirked, giving Nudge a look that made her want to puke out her breakfast, lunch, and future dinner til next week. Noting her confused look, he added, "Let's just say I've got the whole thing covered."

Uh-oh?

As Sam sleekly left to join his friends, Nudge's heart sank. What exactly did he mean by that? He's got it all worked out?

Nudge quickly dismissed the thought, not wanting anything to ruin her awesome date. Buying two bags of cotton candy, she quickly left in search of Iggy, not relaxing until she finally reached him.

* * *

"She looks so miserable," Nudge laughed, sounding a bit forced as she handed a bag of cotton candy to Iggy. Answering his questioning expression, she nodded to his left.

The first thing he saw was Max's brown-blonde hair tied into a messy and frustrated bun. She sat behind a small table cluttered with sponges, bottles of paint, paintbrushes, paper towels , and cups of water. A small hesitant child sat patiently besides her as Max painted the young girl's face.

Iggy's mouth popped open soundlessly. "That's not a sight you see everyday. I didn't even know Max was allowed around kids." Nudge rested her arm on his shoulder.

"She's only here to get back at some brats, but obviously her plan is backfiring," Nudge bit into her cotton candy as they both watched from afar.

"She looks miserable," Iggy commented, seeing how focused yet tired Max looked as she washed a paintbrush.

"Glad we agree," Nudge replied, suddenly grabbing his hand and speed walking off to…somewhere. Iggy didn't have a clue.

"Nudge, where are we going?" he asked just as he spotted a huge Ferris wheel looming ahead. He glanced behind them and with much difficulty, saw Max at her booth.

Only after they got in line did she respond, "A place with a better view. I saw Fang somewhere around here. He and Max are bound to meet." She grinned when she saw his expression.

"So we're going to spy on them from above? That's so _creepy_," Ig shuddered. To be honest, he hated all this match-making. After his first attempt with Max and Fang, he knew blood would be shed and chaos would ensue.

"No of course not!" Nudge laughed, reaching into her cotton candy bag once more. "We're going to spend a romantic five minutes on the Ferris wheel while watching them duke it out." Oh well, _that_ made it all sound so much better.

Ig casually took Nudge's hand, loving the way her hand felt against his. Maybe he could survive this Carnival, just as long as he had her hand enveloped by his.

"Let's start stalking…I mean watching," Ig replied with a playful grin on his face as Nudge elbowed him. Together, hand in hand, they made their way on the platform and onto one of the many seats to be lifted high into the air.

* * *

"Give. Back. The. Bag," Gazzy bit out, his voice dripping with venom. "You do not understand the power that that bag contains."

I rolled my eyes. "Just how I don't understand why you egged my house and threw multiple stink bombs in my room?" He made another attempt to reach for the bag, but I only held it out even farther away from him. He lifted his hands up in defense.

"The windows were wide open! I couldn't help myself!" he cried out, eying the bag once more. This only shifted my interest from Gazzy to the bag.

"What's in here exactly?" I teased, trying to sound genuinely interested. As I made a move for the zipper, his tiny eyes bugged out from his nervousness.

"Don't!" he cried out desperately. I couldn't help but grin at the pouting boy before me. He was just too cute. Cute, but terribly annoying.

"If you say sorry and promise to _never _do it again, I'll give back the bag and won't make your life a living h-e-double hockey sticks when I baby sit you and your sister next Friday." I mentally patted myself in the back. Way to clean up the language while threatening him. Boo-yah.

Gazzy contemplated the deal I offered and finally nodded his head in agreement.

"Just remember to treat others how you want to be treated," I stated philosophically, stroking my chin and loosing all effect as I did not have a philosophers beard. Damn.

He rapidly reached for the bag and scampered off towards the moonbounce, quickly brushing off the kind crumbs of advice I had laid out before him. Little punk.

I returned to my booth to clean a few soiled paintbrushes, feeling slightly bad towards all the little kid's faces I had painted. One thing you should know about me: I am _not_ an artist. About half my paintings were some deformed mysterious brown blob. Don't ask.

I shuddered, still disturbed by the fact that I was at a Carnival. A FREAKIN CARNIVAL. This was too weird. Maybe I had a fever? I clenched my teeth when that annoying Six Flags theme song came on over the speakers for the 16th time. I seriously felt like stabbing someone in the eye with one of the brushes.

"Daydreaming?" a deep voice asked, across from me as I continued to focus on cleaning the paintbrushes.

"Only a little," I admitted, still not looking up. And then it hit me. Like a punch in the face actually. The owner of this perfect manly voice was none other than Fang Batchelder.

My head snapped up to meet his gaze. After counting to three, I quickly shut them, hoping that I was only hallucinating. I peeked one eye open. Dagnabbit! He was still there.

At this, Fang chuckled as he sat down across from me at my face painting station. I quickly fought back a blush as flashbacks of last night and the epic fail kiss crossed my mind. He nervously ran his hand through his hair, as we stared at each other in unbelievably awkward silence.

I shifted my gaze from his dreamy green-chocolate eyes to his hair. Yeah, that was safe. No more uncomfortable stomach-flips and "butterflies." Ugh.

Unfortunately for me, his hair was not a better alternative. It was arrange messily as if he had just rolled out of bed after a sleepless night. Talk about a grungy and scruffy look. Regrettably, Fang was one of those guys that could pull it off, which meant that I couldn't be nasty and call him a hobo or ask him if he was interested in a bar of soap. This was a shame.

I awkwardly dipped a paintbrush into some paint just for the sake of doing _something _and decided to crank open a conversation. "So uh, you want a face painting or something?" I grunted, feeling stupid and uneasy. Oh god. I sounded like a freakin Tarzan.

"Sure," he shrugged, his deep voice flat. I refused to look at him and took a huge breath, already wishing this torture was over.

"What do you want painted?" I asked, pulling out the black paint jar out of instinct. I mean, this was Fang I was dealing with.

"Whatever."

And then all was static for a couple of minutes.

_Hello. You've dialed the Awkward Hotline; leave your monosyllabic answers and we'll get back to you as soon as we can._

I couldn't agree anymore with the annoying little voice I had in my head. Fang had totally killed the forced convo I had put so much effort into starting. What a jerk.

I leaned in as he displayed the left side of his face to me, wincing by his proximity and ignoring the fact that he smelled good. It was unnerving I tell you. To have him so close. Close enough to throw a punch at. Close enough to spit on. Close enough to kiss.

Wait. _No_! Back up. _Dick_.

I held my breath throughout the whole process, not wanting a accidentally get a whiff of him. Fang had that kind of smell that girls could get high over. I mean, if I had his leather jacket, I'd be stuffing my face into it every five minutes just to smell his smell. Creepy, I know.

I breathed a sigh of relief when it was all over, and sat back to examine my painting.

Perfect.

* * *

An unsuccessful Fang walked away from the booth and away from the shrew. Yeah, she was definitely still pissed off. After Max had painted his face, they exchanged a few nasty words, leaving Fang feeling even worse about the situation.

This was just a game. Or at least it was supposed to be.

As he turned the corner, some woman gasped and covered her child's eyes when she saw Fang's face. Ouch. A blow to his ego much? Turning from the her, he saw more offended and surprised mothers and students alike. Curious, he approached the merry-go-round and stared at his reflection through one of the many mirrors.

He sighed in frustration. He should've seen this coming, especially from Max. Turning his cheek for a better look, he clearly saw the reflected bold, black letters of Max's painting in the mirror that read: **ASS**.

Hangs on to resentment like a Confederate widow? Unwillingly, Fang finally admitted that Michael was right...again. Damn.

* * *

**Hi there. So I know most of you desperately want to tie me to a stick and roast me under a fire until I finally promise to update quicker. For that, I am truly sorry. Truly. Kinda, maybe.**

**Ive been busy with life and summer ya know, ya dont care, you're probably not even reading this but instead thinking of ways to flame me. It's okay. Maybe.**

**If you've noticed, Ive finally found out how to name chapters. I know. Sloooooow. Expect an abundance of original, invigorating titles.**

**Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. If you want to make my day and encourage me to update quicker, you can click that tiny button which says review. You know, only if you want.**

**P.S. Hope you guys are having a great summer so far! I know I am. :)**


	6. New Beginnings

**Before I forget, DISCLAIMER. Okay, done.**

* * *

**Fang Batchelder **\Fey-eng Bat-cha-ell-dur\, _noun_:

1. A ridiculously attractive albeit quiet young man with a deep love interest for the color black.

2. _See: _poser, wannabe emo, asshole

"Hey there, working hard?"

"Of course," I muttered, instantly closing my laptop as well as the Word Document that held my pathetic dictionary definition as J.J. came over to sit next to me. I felt myself unconsciously turn red, embarrassed and guilty for wasting precious time thinking about some gross guy.

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since our last meeting at the Carnival. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not like I've been counting down the days til our next meeting or anything.

Okay fine. Exactly 20 days, 16 hours, 47 minutes and 31-no wait-33 seconds had passed since the Carnival. Happy? At least I was being honest with myself and in-tune with my feelings (insert gag).

It's just that Fang tried, failed, and hadn't tried since to approach me. Did I shoot him down too hard last time?

No. He's just a quitter. And a complete antisocial. And the scum of the earth. And he smokes. My point being: Guys are disgusting.

Just as I started contemplating whether or not to make a Venn-diagram of Pros and Cons on Fang, JJ dragged me back to reality.

"Soooo…" she started, drumming her fingernails against the table we were sitting at in the Employees Lounge of Starbucks.

"Soooo…" I mimicked, reaching for my peppermint mocha resting next to my laptop.

"So Michael and I-"

"No," I replied off-handedly, already knowing where this conversation was going.

"Michael thought-"

"No," I repeated. "I don't want to hear about how much you guys care about each other or how great things are going between you two. I'm happy for you JJ. Really. But I stand by my beliefs. Love stinks. Boys have cooties. The end." Yes readers, you read correctly. A week after the carnival, Michael and J.J. became an item. It was actually rather cute. In a gross, nerdy, hearts and flowers kind of way.

"So absolutely nothing can be done to change your view on Fang? Nothing at all?" J.J. prodded, resting her chin on her palm.

"Forget it J.J. I've already accepted the fact that I'm going to become an old and lonely spinster who spends the rest of her days knitting mittens for her nonexistent grandchildren. I'm totally cool with it."

"Okay, whatever you say," J.J. responded, arching a brow and giving me a look that said, _I know you better than that_. And the truth was, she did know me better. Because honestly, who would want to grow old by themselves? I'll give you a hint: not me.

* * *

"This is pathetic. Really. It's been three weeks. I mean, it's like you're not even trying." Michael stabbed his rock-hard mashed potatoes apathetically and pushed his meal aside, his appetite gone. Seriously. School lunches were no better than prison food.

"You know, this really isn't as easy as you two think. Would you like to try and win her back for me?" Fang offered, playing with his army knife as the cafeteria buzzed to life all around them.

Michael held both of his hands up in defense. "Hey now, don't drag me into this. I'm not affiliated with her."

Fang narrowed his eyes. "You go out with her best friend."

"So?" Michael shrugged, stealing a chicken nugget from Iggy's lunch tray.

After slapping Michael's hand away and rolling his eyes, Ig spoke up. "Fang, what Michael was trying to say before he insulted you and your potential girlfriend was that although Max seems to hate you with the fire of a thousand suns-" Fang shot him a look "-all in all you offended the girl that's hidden somewhere deep deep _deep_ inside of her."

Fang gave him a blank look. "Your point?"

"My point is that you should abandon all your pride and stubbornness and just profess your love to her," Ig replied, clutching his heart in a mellow-dramatic way. Fang shuddered.

"Only then can you be with Max-"

"And I can truly be with Nudge." Ig finished for Michael, giving Fang a satisfied look that made it clear he thought it was a fool-proof plan.

"Oh really? That simple?" Fang's brow shot up in question as Michael and Iggy replied with very eager nods. Fang rolled his eyes. "That's the gayest thing Ive ever heard."

"Hey." Michael shot out, his face suddenly expressionless and unsmiling. "That word is offensive."

"To who? You?" Iggy snorted as he reached over to grab his drink.

Michael shook his head, his face downcast. "That was a low blow. All my manly honor. Gone."

Ig patted his friend on the back comfortingly as he eyed Fang. "Relax Michael. You're not the one with the lost honor here. I mean, with Fang's rep with the ladies, he should be killing out there. But no. When it comes to Max, he's completely lost."

Fang clenched his jaw in defense. "Well, Max is-"

"A man," Michael finished without even looking up, returning to his lunch that had previously nauseated him. Fang shot him a look.

"Different. She's different." Fang mumbled in a feeble attempt to finish his previous sentence that had been so rudely cut off. They all fell silent as they felt the heavy meaning behind his words. Fang liked Max. That fact was clear as day as Iggy and Michael stared at Fang.

"Okaaaay. So now that we've confirmed Max's special-ness, can we get back to figuring out how you're going to win her back?" Iggy spoke up, trying to stifle the silence.

"I might have an idea," Fang yawned. His two companions looked up at him in surprise and he motioned for them to draw closer into a huddle. This was going to be the plan of a lifetime; one that Fang knew would either strip him of his pride, or make Max fall head over heels in love with him. He just hoped it would work.

* * *

After an uneventful day of school, did I go home, throw on some sweats and crawl into bed with the intentions of wasting away a perfectly good Friday night? Well, yeah.

"Oh, this is just pathetic. Up! Get up! I came here to see Maximum Ride. Who's this... Emo girl?" After a failed attempt to tear the covers off from me, JJ crossed her arms sternly and tapped her foot patiently.

I put on my best pout and tried to make my eyes water without any success. "Leave me alone. I'm wallowing."

"Not anymore. We're going out. I can't leave you here to vegetate! Sometime soon, mold is going to grow out from your nose. Or out from that sweatshirt. You haven't washed it in three weeks. Now that's just not sanitary," JJ crinkled her nose in disgust.

"But it's my 'wallow-in-self-pity' sweatshirt. I only whip it out on these occasions. It was getting awful lonely." I defensively hugged myself, making sure JJ wouldn't be able to rip the sweatshirt from my body. She rolled her eyes at me. "Just go spend quality time with Michael." I added, trying to shoo her away. "Although a lot less cool to be around, he's probably the better alternative. He offers love and nerdy jokes. I only offer blackness. And death. And sorrow. Emphasis on the sorrow part."

At that, JJ threw a pillow in my direction that landed square on my face. "We have to go out. We're going to see a movie or get into a bar fight or _something_."

"But I don't want to get into a bar fight. Besides, I'd whoop all their asses."

JJ threw her hands up in surrender. "Fine. Fine. I'll leave you all to your lonesome. But when I get back later tonight, you better have showered. Seriously, Max. You smell bad."

"You're not helping. You think you're helping. But you're not." I shot JJ a look as she collected her jacket and bag.

"You're such an ungrateful brat," she teased as she blew me a kiss and left my room.

"Love you too!" I shouted as I heard her go downstairs and slam the front door shut. After throwing the covers back over my head and listening to the silence that surrounded me, I self-consciously brought my sweater to my face to get a goooooood whiff of myself. Was I pathetic or what? (Y) (N) Actually, don't answer that. I mean, me? Getting worked up over a guy? Now that's just Twilight Zone material right there. Sigh. I needed to pull myself together. Shower, here I come.

* * *

"And our plan is a go-go. Let's move move move!" Michael shouted as he parked his parent's minivan in front of their target's area of residence. Nudge giggled as she, Iggy, and Michael, dressed in all black, exited the van and silently crept up across the lawn.

"You sure this is going to work? I mean, I'm regretting our decision to not bring the chloroform," Iggy whispered to his companions as they snuck around the back of the house.

"Oh, stop it Ig," Nudge replied, pulling out her keys and jamming the right one into the keyhole. "Max could sleep through World War III. She has the drool thing going on and everything." Michael snickered. "You didn't hear it from me," Nudge added as she pushed the door open and entered the kitchen.

"Hey, you sure you're okay with this?" Iggy asked Nudge as she maneuvered her way towards the staircase leading to the second floor. Nudge flashed him a smile.

"Kidnapping Max isn't the worst thing I've ever done to her. Besides, in the end, she might thank us."

The three slowly crept up the stairs and made it into Max's dark bedroom. After some fumbling around, Nudge finally took out her iPhone and shined the light around the room. The group made their way closer to the bed.

"Woah. Does Max sleep in the nude?" Ig harshly whispered across the room towards Nudge. The contrast between the darkness of the night and her pale, slightly exposed shoulders surprised him as he took a step back away from the sleeping body.

"That's called a tank top Ig. Okay team, lets tie her up and get going!" Nudge commanded as the three set to work. Nudge could hardly contain her excitement. This was going to be one hell of a night.

* * *

"Have to admit, this is a great plan. She's going to love it," JJ smiled, glancing over at Fang for the fifth time that night. They had been waiting for over 30 minutes. What was the hold up? She could hardly contain her own excitement.

"Thanks," Fang awkwardly replied, nervously ruffling his hair. Quickly taking the subject off of him, he added, "You sure you're ready? This was all kind of last minute." He dug his hands once more into his pockets, and stared up at the clear night sky. JJ fought back a grin. Oh, he was too cute.

"I brought a bag with my change of clothes and I have my sneakers. I'm all good. You? Do you even own anything besides combat boots? Cause I know you've got the dress code down," she joked, looking up at her companion who was wearing a fitted v-neck black tshirt and jeans. "Michael even brought war paint," she laughed, more to herself than to Fang.

He turned his head to her and gave a small smile. "Michael's a cool guy. Though he might rely too heavily on Star Wars jokes at times, he's definitely a good guy you'd want to keep around. Besides, he's entertaining as hell." They both smiled at this.

"You're not too bad yourself. Get past the tough exterior, and you're a marshmallow!" JJ teased, nudging Fang's side. Instead of popping a vein and whipping out his knife like she half-heartedly thought he'd do, Fang sighed and slowly shook his head.

"Now, if only Max thought the same way."

"You know, she really did like-she _does_ like you," JJ noted after some silence. "Max is just too emotionally-constipated to actually know how to deal with feelings that go beyond the primitive instincts of hunger, sleep, and competition. It's kind of sad really. She's just not used to liking someone."

Fang tilted his head in JJ's direction and continued to listen in silence.

"But I believe in you," she yawned, stretching out her arms above her head. "You just need to come to terms with how you feel, and just let every emotion in you gush out. Sure, Max will most likely point and laugh at you, but she'll most _definitely_ understand your sincerity." JJ smiled at Fang encouragingly. "Everything's going to work out. You'll see. Just be natural and she'll come around. I promise."

* * *

"WHAT THE HELL," Max yelled, making the inhabitants of the van jump.

"The beast has finally stirred from its slumber." Iggy noted, ignoring Max's little tirade.

"Seriously guys? Nudge? You've got to be kidding me." Max sneered as she examined her surroundings and the state she was being held hostage under. "But honestly, this is real professional. I mean, kidnapping me, and tying me up with pink jump ropes? You guys could've at least added a blindfold or something for the suspense." Michael rolled his eyes. Ever the complainer.

"Hey Nudge, can we gag her?" Iggy grinned at Nudge who, sitting in the front seat, turned around and winked at Ig before giving her sister a sympathetic smile.

"That's not such a bad idea…" Nudge trailed off, loving this moment of power she had over her older sister.

Max just scoffed. "Let me guess. With a stuffed animal right? I mean, as long as we're taking the _kid_ part in the whole kidnapping process seriously, yal might as well go all out."

"What, are we in the South now? 'Yal?'" Iggy teased.

"Hmm, you're giving us ideas. I wouldn't mind _not _listening to your whinny crybaby opinion for at least five minutes. Sure. A stuffed animal it is…or a moldy sock," Michael suggested in a no-nonsense voice, keeping his eyes on the road as they drove down the highway. That shut her up. After a brief second, Michael shifted his eyes back onto the rearview mirror, and his grin met Ig's.

Max scowled. "I loathe you. I can't believe you wear crocs."

"And you're a psycho, but we're just gonna have to get along seeing as I'm dating your best friend," Michael replied, steering the van into the next exit off the highway.

"Just because you're going out with JJ doesn't mean I have to like you," Max sneered back, struggling to free herself from the jump ropes.

Michael sighed. "And here I was, just about to tell Ig to untie you. Oh well."

Max's mouth dropped and her eyes narrowed. Nudge and Iggy laughed at the fairly comical tension between the two. After a few moments however, Max did not retort, but instead stared out the window in silence.

"Almost there," Nudge squeaked , tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear as she turned around in her seat again to face Iggy and Max. "This is going to be so amazing. Max, you're on my team."

Michael smirked when he saw Max's confused expression through the mirror. "This aint no Chuck E. Cheese's, so don't worry about it." He briefly chuckled to himself when he saw Max's expression unconsciously relax. Turning into a parking lot, he caught sight of both his girlfriend and friend waiting by JJ's car. Show time.

* * *

We reached our destination right off the highway's exit with openly glaring neon lights shining the way to our destination: a flashy laser tag megaplex maze of _doom_. Nudge giggle when she saw my face and pushed my jaw up. After exiting the van, we followed Michael who dashed immediately through the doors with a small duffle bag. The inside was huge and completely dark, save for the pulsating neon strobe lights and the glow in the dark carpet complete with spaceships. An arcade lay on one side where a small girl was crying over some tokens her brother stole. Towards the other side, a dining area was situated as well as a huge concessions stand. And in front of us stood the entrance to the Laser Zone. Three tween boys darted past us, cackling and whipping each other with their glow sticks. Nudge and Iggy grinned at each other, and commenced to look around, obviously in search of someone. It was 9pm, Friday, and I was going to spend the rest of the night playing laser tag. Score!

I jumped when Michael and JJ seemingly materialized out of the darkness, wearing matching neon tube socks, bright yellow sweatbands around their wrists and forehead, wearing workout shorts and sleeveless shirts. They looked they like just came out of a Richard Simmons' workout video. I repressed a laugh. Maybe this wouldn't be too bad after all.

"Max! Now this is much better than a bar fight, am I right?" JJ grinned, taking my hand and leading me towards the counter to get my ticket.

"Not bad," I shrugged, slightly impressed as some bored middle-aged man stamped the back of my hand with an inky shooting star as a pass to play. JJ then led me over to where players were pulling on their gear. My eyes met with Fang's for a split second before I turned back to JJ and gave her my _fullest _attention. Who invited him?

"This was all Fang's idea, and he even paid for all of us! Don't tell him I told you that, though. He didn't want you to know." Oh, okay. Well, aren't I a jerk? JJ quickly pulled on her gear and went over the help Michael untangled his laser gun's cord from his leg. How cute. After I strapped on my own breastplate, I went and retrieved a gun and worked to untangle it.

Either I was sending out damsel in distress signals from across the room, or my attempts to unravel my mashed up cord were so pathetic that it sent Fang my way. I quelled all my murderous desires, and tried to act civil enough for him help me out. Okay, fine. Maybe glaring at him wasn't so cordial, but at least I didn't karate chop his Adam's apple. Yeah, that was a weak justification. I'm a horrible person.

"Thanks," I mumbled, suddenly so interested in that mysterious grass stain on my left shoe. How long has that been there?

"No problem," Fang shrugged, mussing my hair and giving a little smile. I started. Woah, a _real_ smile. Not one of those shit-eating smirks of his or grimaces. I grinned back. Maybe I could forget everything that had happened and start with a blank slate.

"Come on. Let's have some fun. Oh, and kick their asses of course," he added, motioning towards JJ and Michael who were stretching their hamstrings and doing squats in their gaudy matching jumpsuits. I laughed at this and followed him towards the entrance of the maze where several other players were gathering around, feeling strangely optimistic and excited. Perhaps a blank slate could actually work. Just maybe.

* * *

**Muahahahahahaha. Ha. Not funny, I know. The whole "no show for about 8 months and suddenly post a chapter" thing is lame and I hate it when authors (whose stories I enjoy) do that too. I understand if to spite me, you wouldn't want to review, but that's not going to be too encouraging now is it? Thanks to everyone who follows this story and who pushed me to post a chapter. I promise, I'll be MUCH quicker starting...now. You guys are da bomb. And I absolutely mean that in a terrorist kind of way. But not really. Review? :D**


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